Hope//Faith

[Lune]

She was your average, everyday teenage girl. Went to high school, struggled with her emotions, followed the same routine day after day.

Not that she was bored or anything.

The future just seemed so bleak all of a sudden. Go to school, graduate, find work, get married, have kids, watch them grow up and follow the same routine you went through. Day after day. Time passed slowly, then bang it was gone.

No, she wasn't bored. She was desperate.

She was desperate that fateful afternoon, on her way home from the local high school she went to. BCI, they all called it. No one could remember what the initials stood for, and no one actually cared. She had a physics project weighing down on her; was behind in her art, and still had to study for that math test. Bloody math; nearly failed it last year.

She was sixteen and a half, and more than capable of taking care of herself. Maybe that's why she didn't look where she was going when she crossed the last block to her home, and maybe that's why the white truck speeding the wrong way down a one way street plowed into her. She never felt the pain, but as she blacked out, she could have sworn she heard hoofbeats.

xox

"You think she'll be okay?"

"Of course she'll be okay! We made sure of that. Not going to risk losing her, like we lost some of the others."

"What about the rest?"

"They'll be fine too. All they need is a little rest."

She was hearing voices. Where was she? In a hospital? No... she'd been in hospitals before. They smelled like disinfectant and freshly scrubbed walls. This place had a warm, woody smell, like the sound of crackling fire.

What was she talking about? Sound and smell? The two weren't even slightly related. And how did she get here?

It came rushing back to her. The white truck, her inattention. She wondered if her parents knew. The crash must have been pretty bad to have rattled her mind like that; having her make comparisons with different senses of the body. Although it wasn't exactly not making sense.

She remembered the truck. She remembered her parents faces, her homework, what she'd had for breakfast (that morning?), but for the life of her, she could not remember her name.

"This one looks a heck of a lot like her though, doesn't she?"

There were those voices again. What kind of doctors were these?

"Could be her twin. The eye colour is off, though. This one's eyes are purple, if you'd believe it."

She didn't bother correcting them, whoever they were, and whoever they were making comparisons to. For all her life people would glance at her once, then do a double take and ask if her that was really her eye colour, and were her eyes really purple?

No, they were violet. A shade of purple. But the average person, as she found out, was ignorant/colour blind, and so she'd given up the arguement.

Perhaps the two "doctors," or whoever they were, had noticed that she was now awake, for they stopped speaking. She attempted to open her eyes.

Surprisingly, it wasn't all that hard. Everything was blurry, for a moment, then she found herself looking up at the silhouettes of two figures looking back down on her.

"You were right about her eyes," said the one on the left. "Though I'm sure it doesn't matter too much. As long as he doesn't look too closely, he'll never tell the difference."

She tried to say something in response to him, but all that came out was a dry croak.

"Hush, there," said the figure on the right side, apparently female. You were out for a few days. Had to spoon feed ya."

Her eyes were starting to focus better now. She was lying on some sort of wooden bed, atop a straw filled mattress with rough linen sheets. The room was built entirely of wood, with stained walls, carpeted floors, and matching furniture. The figure to her right, a rather plump woman, moved out of the way to the far wall to tear the white curtains away from the sole window. She could now clearly see the face of the man to her left, who was still studying her with an odd expression on his face. His lips were puckered, as though he'd eaten something sour, and there was a dusting of unshaven hair along his jaw, but otherwise he seemed friendly enough.

"W-where am I?"

Well, at least her voice was working now.

"You're in Haven's Cove, my dear," said the woman. "You were found outside of my tavern, looking like a chariot ran you over. We, my husband and I, took you in to recover."

She looked at the two of them, then at the window outside. Tavern? She was hit by a truck on the street next to her own... I must be dreaming.

"My name's Margret Traeh, but you can call me Maggie. That there's Mr Traeh, Bob."

Bob and Maggie, relatively nice names. Why couldn't she remember hers? "I..." she paused, suddenly needing more air. "I forgot my name."

Maggie looked at Bob, in a seemingly silent communication. "We'll," she said, obviously knowing more than she was letting on. "Perhaps you'll find solace here."

Solace. That was a nice word. In fact, it rung a bell... though it wasn't her name. She would need something to use until she could remember it, so why not? Smiling, she nodded. Yes, Solace would be her name for now.

"Then... that's what you can call me, I guess."

Again there was that silent communication between Maggie and Bob. "Would you like to take a look outside?" said Maggie, breaking the sudden silence. She, Solace, nodded, and slowly sat up in bed.

Walking to the window was rather easy, despite not having used her legs in a few days. She should be panicking, but her logic told her that there was a good explanation to this all. She was probably dreaming. A very realistic dream.

Solace peered out the window. She could see tall, wooden buildings opposite, and beyond that the blue edge of the horizon, signifying that they were near the sea. In fact, once Maggie opened the window, she could smell the salt. Yes, a very realistic dream. She wasn't even wearing the same clothes she had been to school; now she was wearing some kind of white nightgown.

The street underneath was a funny colour. Pale lavender. She mused about it for a second, but only for a second, because that's how long it took before she realised that the street was moving. In fact, it wasn't even a street at all.

Solace felt her jaw drop, and was surprised when it didn't hit the floor. "W-w-what is that?"

Maggie looked outside, then smiled. Bob-the-silent hobbled over, then offered an equally mischeivous grin. "Oh that?" said Maggie, pointing to the large reptilian head and silver eye that was looking directly at Solace. "She's yours."

Since when do I have a dragon?!

xox

OOC: Alright, basic plot is, this is the land of Atlantia, ruled by the wicked King Mael. He's captured all rogue species (basically most species that he didn't really like too much) and killed them off, and has enslaved the dragon race to do his own bidding. The good guys are fighting to override King Mael, the bad guys, well, they're doing their own thing. The usual.

You can either be
a) a follower of King Mael
b) some kind of neutral character (e.g: bartender, tavern-owner, etc.). Mind you, choosing this option probably won't give you much action in the story.
or c) a "dragonrider," if you will, like my character.

You could either come from modern times, like Solace, or from the land of Atlantia. And be creative! Anything goes, really.

As a side twist: those who do come from modern times have a slightly different role in the story, but only one that will be revealed later. And there can only be seven other of you, including myself. First come first serve.

Here's a character sheet for you to follow:

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Species: try to keep it realistic, but at the same time be creative
Time/Place of Origin: Modern Earth (2006), Atlantia, etc.
Appearance:
Clothing:
Brief Bio: try to keep it short.

Here's mine:

Name: Solace
Gender: female
Age: 16
Species: human
Time/Place of Origin: Earth, 2006
Appearance: long, curly brown hair; violet eyes; darker brows and eyelashes; full lips, slightly sloping nose.
Clothing: at the moment: white nightgown.
Brief Bio: Solace cannot remember her name back on Earth, but she does remember that she was a grade 11 high school student, bored with routine, and wishing for a distraction. She doesn't have any siblings, and the only family she knows that she has is back wherever she came from.

Alright, post away. Remember, anything goes. Keep it creative. And if you have any questions and/or suggestions, PM me.

[MechAngel]

((This sounds like a terrific RP idea, if I might say so myself! I hope you dont mind me joining in! And if there is anything wrong with my character sheet below, please let me know and I can make revisions as appropriate. Thanks!))

Name: Lorne McCaigh
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be around twenty
Species: Though Lorne is technically human, he belongs to a large group of secluded humans known as the Blind Ones (or the Sightless Ones, one of many nick names given to these creatures). All in this sect are born without vision -- some even born without eyes at all -- but their loss of vision hinders them little. The Sightless Ones are very in-tune with the earth, and listen to its calling, to the voice of nature itself.
Time/Place of Origin: Atlantia in general, though he is from an area called Nature's Valley (or, to the townsfolk, Blind-Man's Valley, for this is where most of the Sightless Ones reside). The area is nestled neatly in the valley between two great mountains, and is lush with forests and farmland.
Appearance: Lorne stands an average height for a man his age, and weighs just slightly under average weight, having more of a toned, lithe build. His hair is red as flame, and his face remains curiously kind for such dire times. His eyes, however, remain in the memories of those who have truly seen them -- they remain colorless, white as pearls, for he is completely blind. He speaks with a heavy accent, sounding seriously similar to modern-day Irish.
Clothing: He wears simple garments of cloth or silk, normally white or gray, and prefers to travel barefoot. Also he often wears cloth or leather over his eyes when in a populated area, so as not to frighten or draw unwanted attention to himself.
Brief Bio: Lorne has lived a very normal life for all of his years, having little to do with the rest of Altantia or their problems. His parents, like most of the Sightless Ones, nurtured farmland and did what they could for the sightless community. He worked hard for most of his young life, tending to the farmland and the animals in the area. It wasn't until he was around 13 or 14 that he began to learn tales of dragons, of other species, and of the evil reign of King Mael. Years later, when he was 19, he met the King, and his troops, firsthand -- they invaded his homeland and destroyed everything he had worked so hard to protect and nurture. They slaughtered his people, his friends and family, and took several of his people hostage, including his very young sister Ana. He escaped, luckily, and has been traveling the land, searching for the King, his troops, and his sister.

((As I said, I hope my character will be okay. And if there is a problem, either with me joining or my character, let me know so that I can change things around. I hope we can start soon!))

[Box]

Name: Callahan Thomas Goldman
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Time/Place of Origin: London, England, Earth
Appearance: A round, "egg-head" face; light brown eyes; a rough, slightly large (according to most people) nose.
Clothing: Right now he wears white shirt with a few blood stains, along with blue jeans.

Brief Bio: When Callahan wakes up in Atlantia, he only seems to remember his last name, Goldman; the rest of his name seems to be a blur. He also remembers what happened to him: London, what a great place. Busy too. After a night out with his friends, he had decided to head home. The streets felt empty, and the buildings casted foreboding shadows upon him. The occasional car he passed, with the compartments inside dark and quiet, giving him the feeling that they were sleeping beasts waiting to pounce. He moved a bit quicker, and before he knew it, he bumped into a group of people with thier faces hidden by the darkness. The turned to look suspiciously at him, and he swore that they grinned at him. One of them, taller than the others lept out to grab him by the arms. He struggled, but to no avail -- he had a tight grip.

"Heya, kid. You wouldn't mind if a took a quick search through ya pockets, would ya?" One man requested harshly, pulling out a sharp knife from his pocket. Goldman had not seen the knife, and continued to struggle, oblivious to the threats and spits from the strange man. Suddenly, he felt cold steel penetrate his stomach. He grunted, lurching forward. The knife was pulled out, and he collapsed to the floor, curling up in agony. The group of men cursed and fled. Slowly, his eye sight blackened, and he fell into a dream.

(I'm not the greatest at Roleplaying, unfortunately, but I try my best. If it's not good enough, I'll surely leave.)

[555Heretic666]

Name:Irma Hellinn
Gender:female
Age:looks to be in 20s
Species: One of King Mael's Evil Dragonriders (is that allowed?)
Time/Place of Origin: She originally came from modern Earth, but arrived at Atlantia when she was young.
Appearance:Ghostly appearance, pale skin, dark red eyes, Long Black hair.
Clothing:Black boots, gauntlets, breast plate, baggy pants tucked into boots.
Brief Bio: Irma was born in Scandinavia. When she was young she was transported into Atlantia. Scared and confused, she was kidnapped by evil-doers. Irma realised she had a special ability that was unique, she could talk to Dragons, through her mind! The kidnappers discovered this, and taught her to use her powers for bad and wrong things. After a while, the bad deeds began to change her appearance, and she became a ghostly figure. Soon, King Mael heard from his guards about her and pursuaded her to join his dark army and commit herself to hard training. She now serves the King with her black dragon, Keela.

[Lune]

The dragon, currently nameless, was at the moment hiding in the back of the tavern. Solace had always had an idea that were dragons real, they would be huge, gargantuan creatures. Apparently size depended on species, as Maggie was explaining.

"Dragons range in species. They can go from the very small, often mistaken as large lizards, to the size of castles," said Maggie. So far, Bob had not spoken since she'd woken up, instead choosing to study her face in earnest, then purse his lips when she looked at him. His actions were rather unnerving, to say the least, but maybe everyone here was like that? "Your one back there is one of the smaller ones. Moon-dragons, they call 'em. Very rare breed -- born on only once a century if there's a full Moon on Midsomer's eve. Lucky girl, you are."

"Her" dragon was about the height of a tree, with her head coming up to the window of a two-story house. She had long, delicate, transleucent wings that shimmered milky-silver. Maggie said they were made out of moonlight; Solace didn't bother pointing out that moonlight was actually sunlight reflecting off the moon. She wasn't even sure if that was true here.

They were sitting at a table in the pub downstairs, Solace having been given clothes that belonged to Maggie's daughter. The clothes were comfortable and not entirely strange to wear, yet at the same time they were unlike anything she'd seen before. She was wearing an ivory blouse, rolled two thirds the way up her arm. It was pulled over a pair of form-fitting leather pants (something new to her), and a matching leather corseted-vest laced overtop. Her hair was piled into a bun at the back of her head, and knotted with a loose peice of leather. When she requested her old clothes, Maggie said, "Well, I'm sure that this will do for now. When I found you you're clothes were in tatters, you know. Must have been the horses from the chariot."

Apparently, no one had seen the crash, despite the obvious business of the main street, lined with vendors, neighbouring pubs, inns, and markets. It made no sense to Solace, and both Bob and Maggie knew it. They were doing a pretty bad job of hiding it, too. Solace decided to give them the silent treatement until they spoke up.

"Aw, heck, Maggie! The girl deserves to know the truth!" Silent Bob (as she inwardly called him) pounded his fist on the table, causing Solace to jump. Maggie, however, didn't seem so suprised. "Who knows how long she'll be here, anyways?"

"You know we can't tell her!" Maggie blurted in a ferocious whisper. "He would KILL us!"

Bob shook his head. "He's gonna kill us anyways. And if we don't do anything, he'll kill her too."

At the last part, he jerked his head in Solace's direction. She jumped again at the mention of her name, then blinked a number of times. "Excuse me? Kill me? Who wants to kill me? I never did--"

Maggie's weather-worn hand sealed her mouth closed. "Hush, child." She hissed. "We'll explain it to you, but you must promise not to speak loud. Haven's Cove is one of the few safe places for the Forbidden, but it's still not a good idea to talk about it as though you can get away with murder!"

She removed her hand from Solace's mouth, who was now even more confused, if possible. Forbidden? Who or what were they? Despite sometimes acting without thinking, Solace was not an airhead, and so she voiced her questions quietly. "Forbidden?"

Maggie sighed. "Allow me to start from the beginning," she said.

"Atlantia, our home, had always been a great and prosperous land, no matter how corny it may sound. We've always been provided with food, drink, shelter, and most importantly a smart leader as head of our nation."

Solace fought the urge to groan. She hated politics.

"We were divided into seven sections, each ruled by their own Senator; human, dragon, or any creature alike. We weren't perfect, of course, and as wars tended to pop up from time to time a capital from each of those seven territories was selected. Now, this capital never had precedence over the other states, but were something to happen -- say, a dispute -- the Senators of the involved territories could go to the capital for help and guidance. The capital was named Celestiaren, and was dubbed the City of Light."

"Oh," said Solace, perking up. "So it's almost like Ottawa is to Canada, or Washington is to the US, right?"

Maggie and Bob gave her blank stares. Bob slowly rotated his index finger in a circular motion at his temple, mouthing something to Maggie. She slapped his arm away in return.

"Sure... Wottawa and Oshington. Anyways, the head of Celestiaren was usually the last in the royal blood line. This doesn't guarantee of course that the leader will be particularly bright, and to make a long story short, our last king was not. He made a few bad desicions, mostly conducted through his advisor Mael. Then one day, seventeen years ago, the king was found dead in his room, his throat slashed. Behind his back, Mael had gathered the loyalties of all his soldiers, seduced his wife, and had literally taken the entire nation of Atlantia out from under the king's own feet."

"Isn't that wrong?" asked Solace, sure that if such a travesty would occur back home the UN would be on it in a flash. Maggie smiled sadly.

"What could we do about it? We are but measly peasants against the well armed military of King Mael. In fact, the only ones that could have done anything against him were the creatures of Atlantia, who were far superior in intelligence and skills than us humans. But Mael is a very clever man, and he had them branded 'Forbidden,' and executed all that he could find. The man has no weaknesses, nothing that an everyday citizen could use against him."

At this Maggie paused, then looked around her. The pub was busy enough, the nearest customer being three tables away and in deep conversation with someone else. Convinced that no one was listening, she continued just above a whisper. "Which is why my husband and I offered our services to him when he first rose to power. You see, we figured that if he was really the clever person he showed himself to be, then any secrets he had would be kept close to himself. He might not even tell his most trusted advisors. Your worst enemy is your friend, you know."

She nodded in a most confidential manner. "If he wouldn't trust anyone, why would he trust you? And why do you think you can trust me?" asked Solace.

Maggie always seemed to be looking at Solace with a sad glint in her eye. "He trusts us because he has no other choice. And we trust you because it was our doing that brought you here."

[OOC: continued next post] -->

[Lune]

Solace felt triumphant and confused.

"You see," Bob continued. "King Mael had loved someone once. It was a long time ago, before he was even advisor to the king. We know because she was our daughter." He smiled sadly before continuing. Solace was beginning to get the feeling that this was a very sad place. "She looked just like you, except that she had gray eyes. She died while pregnant with their child. I suppose that the normal man would be grief stricken, but Mael went mad! He got the idea in his head that he could bring her back from the dead."

Maggie picked up the story from there. "We went to a psychic in the Moutains of the Sun after the king's murder. The psychic said that we couldn't bring her back, but we could bring back her reincarnation. Then she showed us you. We vowed then and there that we would bring you here, present you to Mael, and hopefully turn him back into the man he once was. It took a few tries, but we managed to get you here, only now I see that it won't work. Mael is too far-gone for anything to stop him. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you apologising to me?" stammered Solace, feeling awkward, but much more clear (in a confusing kind of way) of what was going on. "Just send me back. You can do that... can't you?"

Both Bob and Maggie gave her sad looks, and Solace realised that no, they couldn't. She couldn't be sent back. Maybe she'd died when that truck hit her, maybe it reduced her to a permanent coma, but there was no going back. Blinking away the tears and the sudden onslaught of panicked emotion, Solace forced the words from her mouth. "I remember you saying... there were others. Is that true?"

Maggie nodded. "Yes. It took a few times until we could get you here, and unfortunately we have a number of people in and around Atlantia who were transported from your world. The first was quite young when she arrived. Unfortunately, she was recuited for Mael and now works for him as a dragonrider."

A dragonrider. It sounded like something out of a thick, fantasy novel. In fact, Solace felt like she'd been injected straight into a fantasy novel. "How is that dragon back there mine?"

Maggie cheered up some at the question. "That was decided long before your birth. We didn't even know about until your arrival a few days ago. When a dragon is born, one out of every one-hundred and twenty will be assigned to a rider. Only the dragon knows where and when to find it's rider, otherwise it's impossible to tell. Yours showed up only hours after we took you in, and nearly plowed the tavern down trying to get to you. She was guarding the entrance until you woke up."

Mentally, Solace reviewed the facts. So she was somehow transported from Earth to "Atlantia" as a secret gift to their evil king in the hopes that her resemblance to his dead girlfriend would turn him good again. Coincidentially, she was also "assigned" to a dragon as it's rider, a dragon that was sitting in the back of the tavern, chained to a shack. For a moment, Solace could feel it's emotions; the anxiety, confusion, expectance, and most of all a strange sort of fulfillment, as though something she'd been waiting for had finally happened.

"So... what am I going to do now?"

"Well," said Maggie, leaning forward. "After your dragon showed up, we did a little research. Turns out that there are a few other dragonriders closeby, and we've sent out messages for them to meet here tonight. As I said before, Haven's Cove is one of the few safe places for these creatures. No one really looks twice at a dragon around here, and the best part is, despite our affiliation with him Mael knows nothing of the place. Anyways, we thought that perhaps you and the others could join up into some form of team, and take down King Mael once and for all. Dragons are a deadly threat by themselves, and with their riders they'll be even more so. I know you can do it, even though you seem kind of young."

"I'm sixteen!" hissed Solace. The tavern door swung open, and she glanced up.

[MechAngel]

((I am amazed at the length and detail of your post -- it did indeed clear up many things, and definitely set the tone for the story. I am also impressed with the amount of people that have already joined, and the fact that the RP has begun already! I have a good feeling about this group! Also, though I am new to this site, I am not new to RPing, and will do my best to have quality posts.))

Lorne had not seen the attack coming, though he could feel that something was not right about this night in particular. There was something in the wind -- a nearly tangible anxiety, suppressed excitement, ran like static across his pale flesh that night. He could smell it in the air, and though, at the time he could not place the feeling, he knew something wasn't right.

He walked the camp that night while most of the others slept, and even then it felt as though some of the people, a great deal of them in fact, felt tense. Something was being planned, and he was very much unaware of what was happening. But there were those that he could trust, those he knew would stay by his side and aid him, and he remained as close to those people as he could on this cold night.

One lad in particular, Bartus, remained ever loyal to the blind man. He had befriended Bartus not long after his own country had been ransacked, destroyed by the armies of Mael. And Bartus saw something in Lorne, something unique, something worth following, worth befriending and defending. Bartus was a massive man, built like a Barbarian from the inner mountain, and with manners to suit. He was a skilled warrior, though he fought with brute rather than tactics. But beneath that hearty, behemoth of a shell laid a heart of gold, and the identical need to seek vengeance for his people, for all people.

Lorne sought out Bartus that night, and found him seated by a steadily dying fire, absentmindedly chewing cornbread.

"Lorne, my friend! You should be sleeping like the others -- we have a great hike tomorrow and you are going to need your strength." Bartus merrily spoke, spitting up small bits of corn. "Besides, with little arms such as yours, every bit of strength counts, hey!" Bartus laughed loudly, clapping Lorne on the back, nearly sending the thin lad into the dying fire.

"Bartus," Lorne spoke, his words soft, nearly inaudible over the fire, " I feel something in the air. Something... something I cannot describe --"

"Ah, you're just nervous, lad!" Bartus interrupted, forcing Lorne to sit by his side on a log. "We've had a long day indeed, and I think you are expecting an attack that hasn't come yet. The battlefield has gotten to you -- the blood thirst, hmm? That's the sign of a true warrior!" Once more Bartus laughed loudly, and slapped the young Lorne on the shoulder, though Lorne had heard it coming and braced.

Lorne removed the bit of chain mail covering his eyes and glanced sightlessly into the fire, the crimson and amber flames reflecting off his snow-white orbs. He took in a slow, steady breath, and could smell it in the air. Bartus caught sight of his actions and immediately sobered, his cheerful countenance drawn up.

"Lorne, you know I have always trusted your instincts. You have this way of expecting things, predicting things... I don't know whether you're psychic or just crazy. But I assure you, I will let no harm come to you." Bartus ran a hand over his weapon laying across his feet and patted it lightly, listening to the iron of his great axe ring lightly in the night air. He also smiled warmly to Lorne, but lost his smile quickly, realizing that Lorne could not see it.

"I will let no harm come to you..."

The attack came swiftly, nearly unpredictably. Friends, confidants, trusted members of his make-shift outcast army, all rose up against those few that stood by Lorne's side, and against Lorne himself. And those few that stood by Lorne's side perished that night, including Lorne's guardian Bartus. Lorne figured that, somehow, select members of the armies of Mael had gotten inside his camp, had bribed or threatened the people to join with the King and to overthrow the nuisance that was the Blind One. And it was that night that the traitors revolted under the name of the King, and once again drove Lorne from his home.

Lorne was alone now, and just as lost as ever, having only the determination in his heart to avenge those brave souls that he had lost to the evil rule of the King, and to find those that were still alive.

~*~

By the feel of the air, Lorne figured that, at this time, the sun was just about to rise. The temperature was steadily increasing, and he could feel the earth beneath him warming to the sun's gracious touch. It was to be another beautiful day he guessed, but even that did nothing to ease the pain and loss he felt. He had come out of that battle relatively unscathed -- few minor cuts and scrapes, and a burn across his abdomen -- and yet he felt that he had lost more than just blood that night. He had been betrayed, and he had lost everything to the King and his men. Once more he roamed the land in search of purpose -- surely he could go after the King himself, and surely he would die by the hand of one of the millions of followers of the King.

Wind whispered lightly across his skin then, and once more he felt the static of that mysterious something in the air. The earth spoke to him that beautiful morning, clearly as Bartus had spoken to him nights before.

"Haven's Cove."

[Tolain]

((I've taken creative liberties, if something doesn't match your vision of the world, I'll edit it out. I'm going to combine my bio into the current story, so its going to be a bit longer than most. Sorry.))

Name: Kadmas, Tolain Durant, "The Blue Blaze"
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Species:Telepath. Although Tolain never had a mentor to teach him anything, he has always had subconscious showings. He has several skills not present in a normal human, though he has little direct control over any of them.

Tolain has the ability to appear as a wolf or dog to bystanders when he wants to remain unseen or feels threatened. This is accomplished by a limited form of hypnosis that developed as a defense mechanism as a child. Tolain would prowl around like he saw the wolves do, and eventually this skill manifested itself. If he concentrates hard enough, he can appear to vanish completely. It won't work on the strong minded. When Tolain realized that this was effecting other people, he took care not to let anyone catch him using it. This is Tolain's only conscious ability.

As far as hypnosis goes, he also has limited powers of suggestion and is seen as very charismatic. In addition to this, Tolain subconsciously generates shielding against dragons breath (Flame in particular). It appears as a bluish haze and only when Tolain is in danger of direct contact.

Finally, Tolain receives empathic intrusions, which have gotten worse as the years go on. Most recently he's found himself stuck with unwanted sensory input from dragons and humans alike.

Time/Place of Origin: Atlantia, in a small village which no longer exists.

Appearance: Tolain (Or, Kadmas, as he now calls himself) stands at 6'4" and weighs roughly 220 pounds. He has strange unmatching eye colors, one a being dull grey tone and the other being bright blue. He has many scars, but none are very pronounced. He has short black hair.

Clothing: In the past, Tolain proudly wore his custom crafted chainmail with the Celestiaren coat of arms over the breast. Every piece of armor on his suit was a bright blue color that gleamed in the sun and inspired awe in friend and foe alike. A glint of blue in the distance meant either salvation or defeat, depending on perspective. These days, Tolain dresses like a common Journeyman.

Bio: Other than King Mael, Tolain is possibly the most widely recognized man in all of Atlantia. After all, his portrait can still be seen in books, posters, propaganda pamphlets, and all manner of sketches. Many rumors circulate through the kingdom about the nature of Tolain's strange eye coloration. Many have said his eyes resemble a dragon's, or a feral wolf's.

But none doubted his loyalty. Tolain's village was destroyed by dragons.

Whatever the reason, a large battle broke out between King Mael's soldiers and a large group of dragons near Tolain's village. One of the dragons (an old black one with a scarred, vacant eyesocket) attacked and killed Tolain's family, who were fleeing in terror.

He watched in horror as the dragon killed his friends and family. Amazingly, right as it began moving towards Tolain (who was huddled in a ball sobbing) it stopped dead in its tracks and looked confused. It screamed angrily and looked all over the area, but it couldn't seem to see Tolain anymore. It continued searching for the boy, but was interrupted moments later by a group of soldiers who rushed at it with weapons drawn. Tolain grabbed the sword dropped by his father, and fled to higher ground.

The black dragon flew off after sustaining injuries, but the battle raged on with the remaining dragons. From cliffs, Tolain watched the casualties on both sides grown. Right below him a group of six soldiers were barely holding ground against a large green dragon.

Tolain's vision clouded over with hatred, and without thinking, he picked up the sword he had taken and leapt off the 20 foot overhang. As he soared through the air, his blue cloak flared against the wind. Tolain screamed in fury and ignored the tears in his eyes as the dragon noticed him and wheezed fire at the young boy...

---
When he woke up in a nearby city three weeks later and took his first steps, he recieved a standing ovation from the crowd that had journeyed to see the twelve year old boy who killed one of the largest dragons in the land.

The image of a child wrapped in a blue cloak, engulfed in flames and plummeting from the heavens soon became a rallying symbol. The legend of the Blue Blaze had been born, and the catalyst for human superiority had been sparked.

---

But Tolain's thirst for vengence wasn't quenched. He refined his killing technique, and killed three more dragons by the time he was 15. The King was so amazed by Tolain's potential that he personally allowed Tolain to join the military as a commander for his dragonslayer division.

Donning his bright blue armor into battle, Tolain became a national hero as the politics of the day became more and more intolerant towards other races.

Over the next eight years, Tolain became peerless at his art. He was put into such a position of power that he could mobilize any military unit without even the direct approval of the king. Whenever a dragon problem arose, Tolain was at the front lines before any other division. Although many saw Tolain's bloodlust towards all dragons as overblown, most respected him enough not to bring it up.

Tolain's techniques are closely guarded, but traveling bards tell stories of him dashing right into a dragons maw with a blue glow of chilling air protecting him from the flames. Others say he has psychic powers and can lull a dragon or remain unnoticed in plain view. Tolain encourages these stories and passes on further tales (with a straight face, mind you) of his true ability being in his "thumb wrestling prowess".

One day, something strange happened. Tolain had been out searching for the dragon that killed his family (his obsession and only major passtime) and he came across a cave occupied by a red dragon and her whelps.

Under the kings law, they were to be captured and enslaved. But Tolain was alone, and the familiar rage welled up inside him. He massacred them without mercy. And thats when it hit him. A wave of pure trepidation. Somehow Tolain felt the fear the dragons felt before they died. He felt sick, and realized that he had become the thing he wanted to destroy.

Somehow, Tolain gained an empathic link with dragons. He could now sense them and understand their thoughts and feelings. He began to avoid dragons at all costs, afraid that the link was two-way and they could read his mind and trump him in battle. Morever, Tolain lost his taste for combat after that day, and began to spend long hours alone in his room reading.

When asked why he was no longer accepting any military missions other than humanitarian aid, Tolain explained his story to the King in a letter. Hoping for mercy and understanding, Tolain confessed that he thought himself to be inhuman and possibly even one of the telepaths the king had declared war on. The King was enraged, and declared him to be a traitor to the human race. Soldiers were dispatched to capture Tolain, and he only managed to flee with the help of loyalists who owed him their lives.

The official word passed down was that Tolain was a half-dragon, half-demon hybrid sent to destroy the human race by way of subterfuge. Any man to bring him in (dead or alive) would be awarded a fortune.

Tolain continued to run for three months. He cut his long hair short, shaved his facial hair, covered his precious blue armor (which he later sanded down to a dull navy shade, and completely removed the coat of arms) with a brown leather overcoat, and started wearing a pair of sunglasses at all times to hide his eyes. he began calling himself Kadmas to any who asked. He kept his King's mark, thinking it could be of use on the run.

He moved from place to place, always fearful that someone would recognize him for who he was. "Kadmas" knew every dragon on earth would want to take a potshot at him, and human greed would most likely overcome the loyalty of old friends. He adopted a strategy of blending into crowds. For a tall man whose face is known worldwide, Kadmas did quite well mingling into local communities and staying low key. Every time soldiers looked at Tolain, they would only see a mangy dog in the city square, or an oddly colored wolf staring at them from afar.

Kadmas needed time to think. He felt betrayed, lost, and powerless. He hoped to get a house in a local community and live a hermits lifestyle until he decided what to do from this point on.

Kadmas had many rogue contacts back in Celestiaren. He heard whisperings of places where dragons were tolerated and ignored ("No kill zones" as he called them. Unverified rumors were no reason to storm a community and cause a rebel uprising. And there were plenty of dragon problems on his home turf, anyway.) What better place for the Blue Blaze to hide?

That was the risk. If he wasn't killed in his sleep by an innkeeper who recognized him, or mauled by dragons, he would be safe there.

Thats how The fugitive "Kadmas Arlock" came to Haven's cove. In broad daylight, Kadmas strolled into the dragon occupied area like someone who had lived there all his life, and prayed no one would take him for anything other than a lost vagrant.

[Dark Seraphim]

Name: Kianna Fayte
Gender: Female
Age: Appears roughly 19; still young for an elf though
Species: “Control”/Gray Elf. A “Control” is a being that is able to control any one of the elements (fire, water, wind, earth). There are only four known Controls in all of Atlantia—one for each of the four. Kianna is a Control of Water.
Time/Place of Origin: Atlantia, born in the secluded village of Falbain
Appearance: Shoulder-length black hair, with crystal blue eyes. Stands an average 5’4” with a lean build. She usually leaves her hair down.
Clothing: Usually a short blue tunic with a silver sash around her waist and black leggings. Black leather boots stop halfway up her legs.
Brief Bio: (to be explained more in detail later; there is a lot about her that will slowly unfold) Kianna’s destiny was decided even before her birth. Born of a Light Elf and a Dark Elf and picking up traits for both, she is looked upon as a symbol of peace and unity of those thought to never be peaceful with one another. When she was born, an Oracle of Falbain predicted that she would gain domain over the great best of the sea. The mix of blood worked strangely upon her and the ocean smiled, bestowing her gift of water when she was only a few days old. Kianna survived a small tragedy (described later) and through those events met her dragon.

~*~

When I cut my hair, they thought I was crazy…

Kianna kneeled beside the flowing stream that ran through Falbain, her hand running back and forth through the cool, clear liquid. On this particular morning, the Elven city was very quiet and very few were out and about to enjoy the day. Wiping her hands on the skirt of her tunic, she stood, surveying her surroundings momentarily before once again heading out on her way.

It wasn’t so strange to be “alone” in the forest…but it was somewhat lonely. Not that Kianna was lonely often; on the contrary, she was always busy and occupied with things to do and take care of. She was highly revered in Falbain for her accomplishments, if one could call them that…Of course, Kianna hardly considered drowning an army an accomplishment…

Running a hand through her midnight hair, she regressed back to that time in her life for a fleeting moment. Her mother, the beautiful Eámanë Alcarin, was gone now, but her father, Eáránë Fayte, the Head of the village of Falbain, was still full of vitality and youth, though some would say a lot of his light had left when his mate left the world as well. Eáránë was a Light elf, with vibrant blue eyes and long, sandy-blond hair. Kianna was constantly being told that she got her father’s eyes, but her father always told her she received her mother’s grace. Eámanë had been a Dark Elf, with a mysterious beauty none could really explain. She had black eyes, and her hair was long and black, falling nearly to the floor when she let it down. That she passed on to Kianna. Finally after some debate, they dubbed her a Gray Elf because of the mix of light and dark, though not to be confused with a Grey Elf, as they are entirely different Elven races.

Kianna once had radiant hair that she planned to grow out, but one day, when it had nearly reached the ground, she took a knife to it. Elves always took great pride in their looks, and especially their hair. They groomed themselves constantly, vain creatures with a natural love of beauty. Elves always grew their hair out, to do otherwise would be unthinkable.

Maybe that was why Kianna did it.

If anyone knew Kianna, and really knew her, they would know how tired she was...of simply everything. She loved her father, and she loved Falbain, but she was so tired. As a direct descendant of Eáránë Fayte, she was considered royalty and many went to great lengths to ensure her safety.

“You are never to leave the safety of Falbain,” her father always told her. He told her every time he saw her, and Kianna wondered why, but she figured it was because he knew she had the urge to do just that. She wanted freedom, she longed for something more. Was her life truly destined to be lived in a cage?

Obviously, Kianna was very different from the other Elves. She was not always happy and singing, though she loved to sing, and she wasn’t content like the others seemed to be. She cut her hair because she wanted something new and different, and when she looked into the stream moments after her raven locks had been sheared, she liked her reflection for the first time in a long time. Yes, her shoulder-length hair made her appear somewhat like a human, but that didn’t really bother her in the least. She still possessed the pointed ears that granted her excellent hearing. She was also quick and agile, trained since birth in the art of combat and dexterity. She considered herself to be a strong warrior too, but she was ironically Falbain’s key to peace. She was the product of a love never thought to be.

Many said that Kianna was the catalyst that would bring together the many segregated races of elves. She highly doubted that though; no one else seemed to want that. The other elves—Wood, Drow, Dark, Light, and others—all seemed content as they were. Falbain was a city for those who wished for harmony and accord. Kianna wanted that…She just wasn’t sure how to make that possible. She had an inkling, but she wasn’t sure how well it would go over with her father.

How would he react when she told him she was going to leave?

Slowing her pace, Kianna nearly smiled at the meadow that had become her second home in the Forest of Bane which stretched on for miles shielding those beneath its green cloak, including the entirety of Falbain. The trees were very close and densely packed, even throughout Falbain, but in this particular spot, there were no trees at all and the light was allowed to shine through, casting a lustrous shine on the foliage. Kianna almost had to shield her eyes this time, for the morning light fell through and nearly bounced back when it hit the iridescent scales of the grand beast which now resided there.

“Good morning, Azure,” Kianna said with a smile, bringing her hand to rest upon the neck of her dragon.

The dragon shifted his head, bringing it around to look at her. The sun caught every scale sending a rain of blue sparkles throughout the clearing. The dragon was an immense beast of blue, but a strange blue indeed. It was not the blue of the sky, but rather the blue of the sea, a turquoise sort of hue. His eyes were the color of the rare corral—a deep, lively ruby.

Azure, as he was named, shook his head a little and Kianna stepped back allowing him to stretch. His massive wings spanned out to their full length, large seemingly gossamer sections colored light blue. Azure was of the larger species, but he could curl up and appear quite small. Kianna had first met him after the great tragedy befell Falbain. King Mael had sent his troops out to seek out the Elves, for he deemed them as well to be an unworthy species. Elves were extremely good at hiding, but somehow, and unbeknownst to the inhabitants of Falbain, an army marched into the city one night.

It was a horrendous battle lead by a dragon rider, and the Elves were not prepared for such a foe. Many died in battle that night; Kianna’s mother was no exception. When Kianna learned of this, she nearly went mad. She wasn’t experienced in her Control, but somehow the water rose up and out of the ground, washing away the intruding militia and sending them into the sea. As Kianna stood on the edge of the cliff overlooking the water, she considered jumping but for a moment. She was still very young at that time, barely eight years, but she wasn’t sure how to continue on. That was why when the dragon burst forth from water like a dove through the clouds, she nearly cried.

Musing about the past again? Azure’s voice boomed in her mind, waking Kianna from her thoughts.
“No,” she said, facing him with a skeptical grin, “And stop reading my thoughts.”

Ah, so I came close then? You don’t have to answer that. His ruby eyes seemed to glitter with mirth. So, what have you come to speak of? I’ll let you tell me this time.

“How gracious of you. Anyways, I received a secret message that my father knows nothing of…We have to go.”

Go? Have you turned completely rebellious? First the hair, and now—

“Are you ever serious?” inquired the Gray Elf, resting a hand on her hip.

Are you ever frivolous? You are an Elf; it is your nature after all.

Kianna let out a weary breath. They were such an incompatible pair, yet through their incompatibility, they were compatible. If their personalities were switched, maybe things would work out, for Azure was much too frolicsome for a dragon, and Kianna was much too formal as an Elf. It worked out strangely, but Kianna was simply glad that it worked out however it did.

Tell me about this letter, said the blue dragon, sitting back on his haunches like an overgrown dog. His long tail with a mermaid-like fin on the end swung back and forth sending gentle gusts through the forest. What did it say and where must me go?

“It was very short, but one thing was clear: We must go to Haven’s Cove…”

[555Heretic666]

Irma sat thoughtfully on the river bank. She had experienced a blood-thristy and unfortunate life. She gazed back at her sleeping dragon, Keela. Irma admired Keela. He was a large species of dragon and was jet black in colour. Long sharpened horns protruded from the top and sides of his head. He had huge wings that could knock you over with the slightest movement, and his scales shimmered a silver colour when it was touched by the sunlight. They had been through many wars and battles together, Elves, humans, dragons, you name it, they'd fought it. They made a great team. Irma could use Keela's instinct and abilities through her mind to locate the best position to attack from on the battle feild, or capture unaware cities. Keela was dreaming about battle again, Irma could feel it. Sometimes she hated being able to connect telepathicaly to the dragon, and would desperately try to block his thoughts out, but she knew she needed the power to survive, and keep her position in King Mael's hierarchy.
She abruptly stood up and stretched. "Come on Keela, we're going for a ride!" She shouted. Keela jumped awake and groaned. "Not again!" Irma heard him think.
Irma always felt better in the air, she listened to the slow beats of Keela's heavy wings, and the rush of satisfyingly cold wind against her face and through her hair. She could move swiftly and change direction instantly without even shouting a command. She looked down and surveyed the land. It seemed like she had been trapped inside the confines of this mysterious place for an eternity, never finding her way back to Scandinavia. At least, thats what she think it was called, it had been so long since she left, she never dwelled on it any more. Irma flew back to the dragon pen, where King Mael kept the strongest and most easily pursuaded dragons he had enslaved. "Oh don't leave me here Irma, you know I don't need training, these other guys are soooo dumb, you wouldn't beleive it!" Keela begged "I know, I can hear them. All braun, no brain, you'll get on fine with them!" She replied with a sly smirk, removing her gauntlets and brushing a hand through her sleek black hair.
The Dragon pen was situated in the territory of King Mael, his castle was not too far away. There was an old run down farmhouse near-by, that now contained the equiptment and dummies needed to train the fiesty dragons (It also suplied first aid kits, buckets of water readily stacked and strong, heavy armour just incase of emergencies)
Irma looked out at the castle and thought about her past, about her kidnapping and life being trained by King Mael and his followers. Something inside her had shaken her. She realised that for the first time in years, while she was flying, she had been thinking of Scandinavia...
She had actually been thinking of home.
Her real home.
She always thought she was the only one in Atlantia that had once lived in another place, but had suddenly had her life taken from her, and been sucked into this sureal land of dragons and Inns, not pubs or common pets. But she suddenly felt this strange grip, it was sinister, but also joyful, was she really the only one here from modern Earth, or where there more?...

[Lune]

Maggie and Bob refused to let Solace leave the tavern without proper supervision. The lack of freedom was beginning to get to her, even though it had only been what, two days since she'd left?

Early dawn of the day after her discussion with the two tavern-owners, Solace was found hunched by the dragon in the back, tears falling down her face like fat raindrops. There was an indescribable pain in her chest, one that threatened to tear her in two.

She missed her family, she missed her friends, and dammit she missed home too. Solace felt lost and alone, unable to accept that she couldn't go back, like she was plunged into some sort of surreal dream that would never end no matter how hard she wished. Haven's Cove, as its name implied, was possibly the safest place for all species of Atlantia, but at the same time felt like her prison.

It was an internal struggle: the former boredom, routine and security of home, or the adventure that awaited her in this strange new land?

Solace had gotten up before dawn and managed to dress herself that morning, even tying a half decent bun (though it was nowhere near as neat as Maggie had managed to get it the day before). She found a pair of boots and pulled those on, then trudged into the back where she would find the only creature that could possibly give her some comfort, despite never meeting it before.

The dragon was still nameless, and Solace had no idea what she was even thinking. Could it comfort her? Would it even understand her? She wondered if it spoke. Would it's mouth move, or would she hear it in her head? It might not even speak English.

That would kind of suck.

As the sun rose over the neighbouring sea (Solace mentally stored the directions in her head, being rather well-oriented herself), the dragon slowly opened one silver eye, and peered at her. She stopped breathing. What would it do? What if Maggie was wrong? What if suddenly it leapt up and spit fire at her, turning her into a walking/screaming ball of living flame?...

I may be a dragon, but I am not heartless.

The voice did speak in her mind, a sort of asexual tone that filled her head with it's resonance. "Uh... you can... read my mind?" said Solace, her voice in a low mumble, nervous in case the dragon hadn't said anything and she was just imagining it. It would kind of be like talking to your cat in front of a room of people before realising that the animal had no idea what you were saying.

Yes. Oh, and my greetings to you, dragonrider.

"You sound so... smart." Solace winced at the lame ending to her sentence. Well, it was better than nothing. The dragon did seem awfully intelligent, but not in an entirely patronizing way. In fact, it spoke to her as though it knew she would understand everything it said. And, in fact, she did.

I am not an "it," I am a "she." Dragons have names too, you know.

"Sorry," mumbled Solace, forgetting that it -- she could read her mind. She'd also had some weird thinking that you were to name your dragon, the idea never occuring to her that the dragon might already be named. An even more embarassed flush spread across her face. "Then, uh... what's your name?"

The dragon stirred a moment, rising from it's former position to rest on it's haunches and front legs. At this height she was only about one and a half times Solace's own 5'4. Twilight. I am ninety-two years old, and was born amidst a circle of standing, human-made stones just as the full moon rose over the horizon and the sun set.

A circle of standing, human-made stones...?

"Oh my god," said Solace, taking a step back, her eyes unfocussed. The dragon tilted her head to the side. "You mean... Stonehenge?"

Twilight had a similar expression to those of Maggie and Bob yesterday, when she began talking about capital cities. I believe there is a human name for it, but it's been lost in time.

Solace was pacing now, questions racing in her mind. What if she really was home? Somehow, after the crash, she was transported to this place where dragons really existed but maybe, just maybe, there really was still a house that she called home and parents that were waiting for her. The hope turned desperate.

You are wrong.

She turned to look at her dragon. "What?"

You are wrong. I know very little about you, dragonrider, but what I do know is you do not come from this world. Wherever it is you came from is out of our reach, and even if we could go back, your destiny lies here.

There were tears threatening to come back. How could she say that? Maybe dragons simply didn't understand how emotionally fragile humans were. "My name is Solace," she answered back, almost surprised at the ease that the word slipped off her tongue. "Not 'dragonrider.' And how can you know that? How could you possibly know that I can't go back, that my 'destiny' lies here?"

Twilight said nothing for a moment, simply staring at Solace with her erie, silver eyes. When the sunlight hit them, she noticed, they sparkled with flecks of gold. Because, Solace, I have faith.

Faith. That was the big thing, here? Faith? Religion was one thing Solace could do without. She'd been to church a whole total of three times in her entire life: once to be baptised, once for her great-grandfather's funeral, and a final time for the funeral of a family friend. Not that she looked down on religion or anything, it was just that she didn't think it was an important thing in her life. And now here she was, standing in front of a dragon (a talking one, no less), who was telling her that she needed it for her destiny.

I do not speak of "religion," human, but of simple faith. Do not concern yourself with it now, for it is unimportant. You will understand when you do.

Solace said nothing, preferring to give the dragon one of those stares especially reserved for the teachers at her school who she liked but didn't make too much sense sometimes. It was a typical smile-and-nod-awkwardly look, but she didn't get to use it to it's full effect since Twilight interrupted her thoughts yet again.

Important such as one of your own kind is nearing. And there is a blind man coming towards us, but he seems to be of no harm...

"Her kind...?" Solace was beginning to get the idea that Twilight had more abilities than she let on, but she said nothing and jogged to the front of the tavern. Around the narrow side was slippery with mud (meaning Twilight had obviously flown over the tavern, as Solace figured the other side was more of the same) and smelled kind of funky, and the main street's cobblestone sidewalks and dirt road were starting to fill up with vendors, hurrying to have their wares out. There weren't very many citizens out, and even fewer who would be blind. Maybe Twilight was wrong.

Then, in the far distance, she could make out a blurry, white figure of a man. She couldn't tell if he was nearing or just standing still, and wondered if this was the one Twilight was talking about. Any contact with someone other than Maggie and Bob would be a relief, as none of the dragonriders had shown up the night before.

"Give them some time," Maggie had said. Solace said nothing, unsure whether to continue being depressed or to be excited. Now she just felt ambivalent about the whole situation.

"I don't know," she murmured out loud, more to herself than to Twilight who still sat at the back of the tavern. "I just don't know anything anymore."

[MechAngel]

Lorne had had plenty of time to think his actions over, and to remember what had happened only days before. Lorne had plenty of time period, because now that his friends, his resistance, was destroyed by the King's armies, Lorne had nothing. He had no possessions, no family or friends to speak of, and knew no one and nothing of the land he traveled. He had, quite literally, wandered aimlessly for the last several days, stopping only when the not-so-literal nature called. He hadn't bothered to eat, for it seemed that the land he traveled had been quite barren of anything besides low, dry grass and more insects than he cared to admit. He had thought of eating insects, but the very thought repulsed him beyond words.

He had been traveling for only a few days, and yet they all seemed to meld into what seemed like one long instance, one long moment. He felt little change in temperature between day and night, and there was no dew produced by this dry, desolate grass to tell him of dawn and twilight. In fact, had it not been for the call of the earth itself, he would have no idea how long he had been traveling.

"Haven's Cove" that voice had repeated to Lorne, time and time again. What was this Haven's Cove -- a town, a building, or something else? How would he know when he reached this place; would the voice return to tell him, or would he be forced to ask in the next town he happened to blindly stumble upon? And why, why was he going to Haven's Cove in the first place? Often he comforted himself, mused even, by imagining a great city filled with others like himself -- outcasts, rebels, those who opposed the King. There he would see more Blind Ones, there he would see his family, there he would see Ana.

His heart beat painfully at the thought, and the beginnings of tears stung his useless eyes.

Lorne had also thought it possible that this was a trap, that this voice was magical. The King had very powerful sorcerers and wizards at his disposal (choice words, 'disposal', implying that the King thought that, indeed, people were quite disposable in his control), and could easily broadcast a message to Lorne, seducing him into this Haven's Cove, a trap waiting to spring. Granted Lorne was not useless in combat -- quite the opposite, in fact -- Lorne could not take on the King's armies alone, especially if they were being backed by magic. He had also heard rumors of flying beasts, Dragons, that the King possessed. (The Blind Ones spoke little of other cultures and creatures, for they found that meddling with things other than their own affairs brought nothing but trouble and grief)

On this day in particular, Lorne could indeed feel a temperature change, and knew that the sun was rising. Evidently he had been traveling South from where his camp once was, for he knew that South brought warmth and water, where North brought mountains, cold and ice -- a general rule of thumb for travelers wandering the land aimlessly. Lorne gazed skyward, and felt the warming touch of the sun on the pale flesh of his cheeks, and felt it in small amounts between the chains that covered his eyes and head. He imagined a beautiful day and what it might look like -- but imagining a beautiful day is difficult for those who had never seen one, and could not compare one with a not-so-beautiful day. He had heard that beautiful days had bright blue skies, puffy white clouds and a blazing orange sun -- Lorne knew not what these colors looked like, nor what a cloud was. Nonetheless, he reveled in the warmth, and for the first time in a long while, he had forgotten his woes.

"Haven's Cove. Here."

Lorne heard the voice in his head, though it was less a voice and more a memory, something that he had no recollection of hearing, but nonetheless the words had materialized in his mind. It was a confusing feeling, but he was used to the call. Lorne dropped his vision to become horizontal with the ground, staring sightlessly straight forward. He crouched low, touching a hand lightly to the earth. People lay ahead -- he could hear them, feel the vibrations from the ground and in the air. He could smell the town -- not a beautiful smell, but not appalling. It was the smell of population, of civilization, and a smell he was not quite familiar with. Regardless, as the voice had queued, this was indeed Haven's Cove.

He wrestled then with his own mind, trying to make a very difficult decision. 'Do I enter, walk into the maw of the beast, into the trap laid before me. Or do I enter, walk into open arms of the ones I love and the ones I have known.' With so much to gain and so little to lose, he pushed himself lightly to his feet and strode forward, towards the small town of Haven's Cove.

[Tolain]

Kadmas walked through the area, taking in his surroundings. The usual buildings were present, but the activity seemed lower than usual. A place that has something to hide, obviously. Looks like I came to the right place.

Now and then Kadmas would see signs of life, and resist the urge to fade into his surroundings. After all, he wouldn't be able to keep that trick up 24/7, and if he was going to get jumped, it might as well be in broad daylight while he was at the edge of the area and not in his sleep.

Eventually, he came to a small tavern. Kadmas opened the door and walked up to the counter. He looked around, and took a seat at the bar. Finding what he assumed to be the inkeeper, Kadmas asked, "Can I get a bite to eat here? I've been traveling for awhile, and am pretty tired of all the trail rations i've been eating these days. My name's Kadmas. I'm a freelance journalist and jack of all trades."

[Dark Seraphim]

Dragonrider,

I do not know the best way to go about this, so I am going to take my chances and go out on a limb. I had heard tales of Elven Riders, but how does one go about sending a letter to one? I shall simply suffice with tying this message to a pigeon’s foot and hope nature hears my silent plea for help. If not, then all may surely be lost. Certainly you know of King Mael’s machinations and evil plots; his armies are spreading like wildfire across Atlantia. We are out of options. Please aid us in this fight. While Elves can seemingly disappear into thin air, humans are not so lucky. We will anxiously await your arrival at Haven’s Cove.

“And that was it,” Kianna said with the slightest hint of a shrug. “I trust this to be no hoax, no form of play…What are your thoughts?” she queried, facing Azure once more.

When did you receive the letter? The cerulean beast asked. One of his eyes followed a butterfly as it flitted about his head, almost unaware of whose presence it was in.

“Late last night.”

Did you notice anything strange about it then?

Kianna thought about it, then crossed her arms. “Well, there was a pigeon on my sill this morning…Suspiciously near the letter. He flew away when I approached him though.”

Azure didn’t even have to contemplate it. Then you can trust its validity.

The Gray Elf was surprised by his abrupt confidence. “How can you be so sure?”

The dragon nodded with his snout towards the insect that fluttered above his head. The butterfly told me.

Kianna almost laughed. “The butterfly?”

With a shake of his head, Azure lowered his head to rest on the soft grass, his eyes still focused on her. You still have much to learn. Any other Elf would accept my answer without question. Kianna nearly rolled her eyes with a disgruntled huff, but decided quickly that such an action would be utterly childish. She didn’t like to hear that she was still lacking in personal growth. She listened nonetheless. Nature is a very powerful entity; most take it for granted. When Nature learns that things are amiss, as they often are, It will occasionally lend a helping hand to those who ask of it. The butterfly flew until it reached Kianna, and she held out her hand so that it was able to rest upon her finger. When she looked at her Elven sisters and brothers of Falbain, she was slightly jealous of their strong link with environment. There were a lot of times when she didn’t feel as though she possessed it. They were always prancing about like the deer in the wood and taming the forest’s inhabitants through touch and song. Kianna wanted that too, she truly did, but she just didn’t know whether she had it in her. It was supposed to come naturally, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it an Elf’s nature?

The butterfly, as if sensing her inner frustration, lifted silently into the air and fluttered away.

A deep rumble sounded in Kianna’s mind and she realized that it was a low chuckle. It shall come to you soon, Arwenamin. It was a term in elvish used for those who were familiar with one another, meaning “my lady”. Azure rarely called her by her first name. It was a habit that had begun when they first met that bloody morning…

When the dragon burst forth from the water like a dove through the clouds, she nearly cried. It hovered there in the air before her, the steady beat of its wings blowing her hair about and sending endless ripples throughout the sea. Kianna thought it would stay there forever, that time had somehow frozen everything—the dragon, the sea, her misery. But then, like a resounding boom of thunder, a voice filled her entire being and she could focus on nothing but the sound.

Arwen en amin, it said, echoing the nonfamiliar word in her mind. Arwen en amin… My lady, you have suffered much on this day, but through your will I have found you…Name me as you wish, for I am yours. Your destiny as a dragonrider awaits...

~*~

“I am here to see my father please,” she stated to one of the entrance guards.

The white-haired elf gestured toward the inside. “I could escort if you’d like, Lady Kianna.”

“No, that’s quite all right.” Moving past him, she walked down the long hall covered with overhanging vines until she reached the room farthest away. Azure had opted out of accompanying her. Besides, he had said, I’m too big to prance about your delicate city. Come get me when you’re done. Her father's room was a beautiful chamber, with a small study and scrolls seemingly thrown everywhere that added an element of entropy—a stark contrast to the otherwise-clean room. Her father sat at his desk busily scrawling out another letter. He was always writing letters. They contained pleas for peace during the troubled times and an urge to unite in order to stand strong. Most often than not, they were ignored, but that didn’t stop him from writing them.

“Father…” she said hesitantly, “Can I speak with you?”

He had known she was there long before she had ever arrived, but he still seemed surprised to see her when he faced her. “How good to see you, Kianna.” His face showed faint traces of a warm smile. “Of course you may speak with me.”

She decided it best to go straight to the point. “I received a letter last night…” Her courage seemed to diminish. “My assistance is required; I am to go to Haven’s Cove…”

Eáránë seemed to contemplate her words for a moment, skepticism evident in his youthful features. “You mean…you are going to leave Falbain?”

Kianna almost felt like she was going to cry. “Yes, father. I believe I can help—“

“What have I told you about this world, daughter? It is not like it is here,” he let out a ragged breath and turned away from her slightly. “It’s dangerous. Our kind is not respected as it used to be. King Mael wants us eradicated…Why do you think we are hiding?”

“It shouldn’t be that way!” exclaimed Kianna, suddenly stirred by his words. “Atlantia is for everyone. No one species or race should gain dominion over the others.”

“You are still so young...The world will not be kind to you with such naivety.” His cobalt eyes seemed sad. “What can you hope to achieve when so many others have gone before you and failed?”

The truth stung a little but Kianna bit it back and said with wavering confidence, “One step closer…I can help us get one step closer. I am a dragonrider; this is my destiny whether you accept it or not.” When it was revealed that Kianna was to be a rider, her father was the only one that objected. Such providence was an honor, a blessing, but Eáránë saw it as a curse. He did not want his daughter hurt, or worse—killed. He wanted the best for her. He could not bear to lose the one last thing he loved. “Father,” she said slowly, “I’ll be careful; I’ll make you proud. Those of Falbain will once again walk freely…I know they will.”

She looked at him for a long time, a million emotions in her face. Her father stared back, a calculating expression marking his features. Finally, he released a slow breath and said, “Very well.”

Kianna nearly jumped into his arms and embraced him, but such an action was uncharacteristic of an elf. Instead, she merely smiled, biting her lip and gracing him with a bow. “Thank you, father. I will make you proud.”

“And what about your training? You have not yet fully mastered your Control.”

“Azure will help me with that. He is a water dragon after all.”

“Be careful…And don’t let the others see you leave. It could cause quite a stir.”

“I won’t…I’ll be careful.”

Standing, he walked over to an oak chest inlaid with silver trim. Once he had opened it, he withdrew a gleaming silver bow and a matching quiver of arrows. They had been her mother’s. It was weird and wonderful and a little sad to see them again. “Tessa sina ten' amin,” he said as he held them out to her. ‘Hold onto this for me.’

This time a tear slid down her cheek and Kianna did nothing to stop it. Taking the treasured items into her own hands, she smiled at her father for what she knew could be the last time. “Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin…”

‘I shall treasure your gift in my heart.’

[Lune]

"What are you doing out here, by yourself? Didn't I tell you not to go out?"

Maggie's firm grip on her arm took Solace by surprise. She jumped, and in doing so lost the figure of the person in white. Mentally she cursed herself for being so nearsighted.

"I was just looking..."

"Looking is dangerous for you." Maggie was speaking as she pulled Solace back to the tavern door. She was furious. Solace didn't understand why, couldn't understand.

There was already a man sitting by the bar, despite the early hour. Bob was serving him something that smelled deliciously like eggs and ham. Obviously he'd entered while she was still standing on the street, looking the other way. Was this the blind man that Twilight spoke about?

Do not think that everyone you meet could be who you are looking for, unless you have reason to believe so.

Solace recognised "her" dragon's voice, but was too angry to say anything. Here was Maggie, a woman who'd brought Solace here away from her own home and her life, and now had the nerve to lecture her?

Pfft. As if!

"Excuse me!" Solace yanked her arm away, viciously interrupting Maggie's current spewing of "why-you're-not-allowed-outside." She ignored the surprised looks from Bob and anyone else in the tavern, and most especially the surprised and slightly hurt look from Maggie herself. Why should she care? She barely knew the woman. "You're not my mother! If I can recall, you took me away from my mother!"

Maggie gaped like a fish, her jaw opening and closing. Her round cheeks flushed an uneven red colour. "I -- we never meant to -- !"

"You have no right to lecture me!" hissed Solace, emotion threatening to take over again. No wait, it already had; the tears were freefalling, hitting the polished wooden floor with splats that could be heard from the ensuing silence. "Just leave me alone."

Still wearing her boots (muddy from the street), she clunked her way to the back of the tavern, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Well played, dragonrider.

Solace said nothing, instead preferring to slump to her knees in heaping sobs. It was the second breakdown of the morning, and the sun was still rising. Solace could feel rather than hear Twilight rise to her feet then paddle over, stopping to nudge at her tearn-streaked face.

"It's not fair," she cried, not caring if she sounded like a little kid or not. Maybe in some ways she really was. "I want to go home."

Her head was buried in her hands, her body shaking with the violence of her sobs. Twilight nudged her again, causing her to look up.

Remember, Solace, all it takes is a little faith.

"In what? I have nothing left to believe in!"

You will.

Suddenly, exhausted (and more than a little embarassed) from her outburst, Solace fell against the soft hide of her dragon. As one hand touched the shimmering scales, she could see images before her. Images of people she knew, of those she didn't. A man with white eyes, gazing sightlessly at the sun... a dragon rising from the sea, and someone much too pretty for a human collapsing to her knees, reminiscent of Solace as she was now... a young man, stabbed and wounded, slowly fading away... a girl on her black dragon, soaring above the clouds... a man stripped of his honour because of what he believed in... and finally, a tall man with curly black hair and a dark bushy beard, his black eyes peircing into hers. She felt as though he could see her, like even though he was only in her head he could actually see where she was... he was mouthing something at her, something that looked like her name but wasn't.

King Mael.

Solace swallowed, feeling saliva coat her dry, itchy throat. "What... happened?"

You had a vision. You have more skills than you know of, Solace.

"So what, I'm psychic now?" her voice was laced in bitter sarcasm. Twilight said nothing, but she could feel both her pity and her frustration.

It had been an exhausting morning, and it wasn't even 8 o'clock. According to her watch, anyways, and that was set to home time. And who knew when she would be coming back?

[MechAngel]

Though there was little that Lorne could lose from falling into a trap, he decided it would be best to enter the town by night -- at least then he would have somewhat of an upper hand. Obviously he himself would not be affected by the lack of light, but his possible enemies would be. Surely they would have torches and other sources of light to see by, but if Lorne could make it outside of the town before the others, he would most definitely have the upper hand. They would be lost in the darkness as he was eternally, but he had had more practice -- he had not be able to see, but his other senses were beyond keen and served him just as well, if not better.

Lorne knew the hour was early, for the air and earth were cool, though steadily warming. He would have lots of time to himself before the sun set, before he would make his way into Haven's Cove. Lorne had nothing to do to fill his day, but surely he would find something. He did not wish to wander far from this town, though he did want to explore the area, to see if there was any forest, marsh, or sea in the area that he could explore (for barren lands, like he had been traveling for the last several days, needed little exploring). He was dangerously low on supplies, and if this Haven's cove was indeed a trap, then he would, in the least, fall into the trap on a full stomach. This pondering made him grin, though only momentarily, a meer flash of teeth.

Crouching once more, he places his fingertips against the solid earth, closed his useless eyes, and concentrated. He felt the warm breeze against his pale skin, ruffle through his hair (he had been told by sighted people that his hair was red, though he himself had no grasp as to what red was). He could feel the grass swaying gently in that same breeze, forever reaching towards that beautiful sky. Beneath the grass, he could feel the earth tremble with the footsteps of men, women, children, beasts of all sorts. He felt the earth open wide in the distance, a great open maw, filled with the cool waters of a lake or slow-moving river, perhaps even a great open sea. In the distance of another direction -- a great distance, in fact -- he could feel countless trees jutting from the fertile earth to bear their fruits, to provide shelter and other necessary goods. This forest was deep and dense, and Lorne could feel no end to it from where he crouched -- he knew that this was where he was to go eventually, though he knew that he could not make the journey there and back before the sun would set.

"Haven's Cove," the wind whispers gently to him, and he responded by shaking his head and withdrawing his hand from the earth.

"I cannot go just yet," Lorne spoke, his words rolling off his tongue with a gentle Irish accent. "I will wait for the setting of the sun."

"Haven's Cove."

"No!" Lorne grunted, suddenly quite enraged. "No, I will not succumb to another trap, another one of the King's plans to snuff out rebellion! It will not happen again, do you hear me? Never again..." His words were harsh in tone, directed towards no person in particular.

The earth became suddenly still -- the wind ceased to blow, the grass ceased to sway. All became quiet, save for the racing, beating drum of his own life in his ears. He held his breath for a moment, and forced himself to become calm, forced back the emotions racing through his mind, burning through his blood, boiling in his stomach. The rage, the pain, the anguish, sorrow and loneliness -- he exhaled, and in turn forced all of the painful emotions back into their respective cages, locking them away for eternity. 'Emotions would get a man killed,' Bartus had drunkenly spewed out to Lorne one dark night. 'Emotions would get a man killed, but emotions would also set a man free.' Lorne had never believed the brute's words -- emotions would not set him free, but rather enslave him. Strategy and a clear, keen mind would keep him alive and set him, as well as the rest of his people, free.

"I shall wait until night, and will enter the town then. At least then I will have a slight advantage."

The breeze began to blow lightly then, and the world returned from its stillness. Lorne exhaled once more, forcing his frayed nerves to relax. The last thing he needed right now was to make an enemy of nature, for it would be an enemy that he could never escape, an enemy that would extinguish his flame as easily as it had given birth to that very flame. With a light grunt Lorne pushed himself up from the ground, brushed the dirt from his clothing (though with the amount of dirt he had already collected it made little difference), and rushed off into the distance, hoping to at least find the edge of the forest before nightfall.

[Fallen-Eden]

Name: Dorian Stargazer
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Species: Fairy (not the goody two shoe fairies but the roots of the old legends) they are about the same size as a human. They do Not have wings!!!!!!! They lost them centuries ago. They have some magic power, about the strength of one and a half men which can be increased through exercise and are great with dragons and other mythical beasts.
Time/Place of Origin: Atlantia,
Appearance: Dorian stands at about 5’9 which is actually pretty tall for a fairy though not much. His eyes are emerald green and flash with mischief and life. He’s quite pale but not too much and has a faint tan. His hair is snow white and hangs down his back in a rouge knot. His ears are long and pointed coming back maybe a meter from his head.

Clothing: Dorian wears darkened leather body armour which moves with no effort, it’s also light as a feather yet can turn the strongest of blade thrusts. Underneath he wears tight black pants and top with a pair of dragon hide boots. A is clasped to his armour with ahood to keep the rain off. In his ear hangs a beautiful cyan jewel which twinkles in the twilight. A long sword hangs on his belt with a leather shield strapped to his arm and finally a bow and quiver over his back in easy reach, he’s an all rounder in combat but prefers the closeness of a melee, more exciting, he says.
Brief Bio: Dorian is a dragon rider sympathiser due to his affinity with dragons, he works with one Dragon rider named Arnold Bolstworthy. How Dorian came into Arnold’s service is quite an amusing tale actually. Dorian had been drinking rather heavily that night and had tried to procure a woman’s services for the night, something which her husband did not take to kindly, Arnold who had been a laughing spectator had been knocked off his seat by a low-lying Dorian who had knocked the contents of his beer all down his front. The two had fought completely forgetting the rest of the bar and eventually Dorian ended up owing Arnold, twelve thousand gold pieces to replace his ruined armour. Dorian still owes Arnold another six hundred……

IC: The Pegasus pounded across the ground crossbow bolts zipping around it and plunging into the soft earth. Dorian buried his face into it’s mane and prayed to nine that he would escape unharmed. A bolt sizzled through the air striking him in the thigh. Dorian cried out in agony just as the Pegasus chose the time to rise up into the air its scaled wings opening up to make full use of the high wings. Dorian still cried out though as he wrenched the barbed bolt from his thigh watching the scarlet liquid dripping down onto the ground far below him but the pain had proved too much and even as the soldiers readied a second volley Dorian slumped in his saddle. The only thing he whispered to the Pegasus was two words. It’s destination he breathed out
“Haven’s cove”

The Pegasus set down in a back alley its cargo still unconscious in the saddle. The Pegasus turned around and licked his owners face with a long serpentine tongue. Dorian opened his eyes slowly and winced as a wave of agony crashed down upon him. He groaned and rolled out of the saddle hitting the floor with a dull metallic clank and groan. He slowly got up on his feet and looked around. No one was there but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be and he had probably been spotted arriving. There was no helping that. Dorian patted the scaly flank of the Pegasus, resembling a dragon more than a horse the thing was huge and scaly with gigantic wings which measured ten feet each. The Pegasus let out its breath and rose into the air knowing his master would call him if needed. Dorian sighed and pulled up his hood hiding his fairy ears beneath it. He looked out of the alley and got his bearings. He was perhaps two streets away from the inn. He groaned and stepped out into the street and began limping down his injured leg seething with agony every time he put weight on it. Dorian pressed his lips together and ignored it as blood began seeping into his boots.

He eventually made it to the tavern and pushed open the door and limped in ignoring the few curious glances he limped in and made his way to Maggie
“Something’s gone wrong” he hissed between clenched teeth, “I need to speak to you in private right now” he pressed a blood soaked bundle into her hand without letting anyone see “One of the few has fallen” he said meaningfully, inside the blood soaked bundle was a signet ring, Arnold Bolstworthy’s signet ring to be exact.

OOC; sorry if it's a bit forward yell at me if it is lol.

[Dark Seraphim]

The afternoon air was somewhat crisp, which was odd at this time of the year. It wasn’t so terribly strange; King Mael’s deviations had stretched far across Atlantia and his plots had thrown something off in the once carefully-ordered universe. Despite the cool breeze, it was still a beautiful day, and a wonderful day for riding.

She hadn’t done it in quite a long while, so Kianna was both excited and a tad edgy. Using Azure’s massive front left leg, she boosted herself up and over, sliding easily onto the elven saddle that had been placed there. Azure got up on all fours nearly throwing the unexpected Gray Elf off.

“Azure!” she said in annoyance.

One would think you would be used to this by now, was his coy reply.

But Kianna couldn’t stay mad very long. She had forgotten how high up she would be. Other things had permeated her interest as of late. Being up level with the tree branches, she realized how much she had missed it. Azure’s wings outstretched, filling most of the meadow, and with a single beat they were propelled into the sky, the trees suddenly below them. It was warmer up above with the sun directly on her skin and she was glad for the open space. Her father usually prohibited her from flying because Azure was such an easy target.

Feels good to be out, doesn’t it? inquired the dragon, sensing her thoughts.

Kianna gave him a small pat. “Yes…It does.” Then suddenly a thought came to her. “But where is Haven’s Cove? There were no directions with the letter.”

Azure’s rumbling laughter resonated in her mind. A fine thing to realize now. Dipping his right wing, they were ferried by the wind and he set into a glide, changing direction in the process.

“What shall we do?” she asked, perturbed that he found such humor in the situation.

You needn’t fret about it, said Azure assuredly, There isn’t a dragon alive that doesn’t know where Haven’s Cove is.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kianna was glad that the minor problem had been easily sorted out. Below, she watched her home slip farther and farther away. Falbain would no longer shelter her within its green folds. She would dearly miss it.

“Namaarie,” she whispered forlornly. ‘Farewell.’

~*~

The land stretched out for miles, a span of greens, browns, and blues. Kianna always loved flying because she was able to see the world from such a beautiful, new perspective. Falbain was so far away from everything too that she would definitely be seeing a lot of it. Gripping the saddle lightly, she closed her eyes and let the sounds of the world fill her ears. She could hear many different things—babies crying, people laughing, and even the very faint voices of her brothers and sisters for a moment more before they were completely lost amidst the plethora of noises. Her ears were a curse as much as they were a blessing. She could often hear people in pain and it hurt her to listen.

Pulling her black wrap tighter around her shoulders, she turned slightly and caught a strange sound. It was the wind being pushed violently about, almost the sound of wings…Dragon wings. Only the wings of a dragon could splice through the wind so fiercely. But surely there wasn’t one close. Or perhaps an enemy was near. Neither seemed like things they should cross paths with yet, or at least until they made it to Haven’s Cove. The sound was gone though before she could analyze it further.

“Are we close?” she asked, still looking behind her for the mysterious cause of the noise.

Azure too seemed lost in thought, but eventually answered. If I fly all night we shall arrive there tomorrow.

Kianna mused over his words before glancing aimlessly into the bright sky.

Tomorrow…What new discoveries would the next day bring?

[Lune]

They are coming.

Solace cracked an eye open, the smooth, resonant tone of Twilight's "voice" waking her from her sleep. From the looks of it, it was already early afternoon, and no one had come to get her.

Did people here not understand how the teenage mind worked?

She was still angry with Maggie, but more than that she was hurt. Hurt that no one had come to check on her, to see if something had happened to her.

Her legs had been drawn up to her chest, and her head was resting on the crook of the dragon's neck. Thankfully, the ground was more dusty than muddy, and her bottom wasn't entirely covered in dirt. It was then that Solace really got a good look at the tavern's "backyard."

It was quite small; smaller than the tavern, and just large enough for Twilight to fit. There were no fences, only the neighbouring buildings and dense forestry as a back wall. There was a small, worn down shack next to a leafless tree on which Twilight was chained. Solace knew that the dragon could easily break free, but probably decided not to out of common courtesy. Dragons were such funny creatures, as she was beginning to find out.

I wonder... Twilight stood up on all fours, then from there onto her hind legs, her head lifted to the sky, unmoving. For a moment, Solace wondered if she'd actually become some kind of statue, and placed her hand on the dragon's hide. All at once it rushed at her.

There was that girl again, though this time she was riding a blue dragon. The dragon was easily twice the size of Twilight, perhaps even three times. Immediately Solace knew that she was heading towards Haven's Cove. But was this an image from the immediate present, or the past? Was she already here, or would she be arriving tomorrow?

Solace let her hand fall from Twilight's side. The dragon now had her eyes closed, perhaps conveying some sort of message of their whereabouts, or more likely simply enjoying the sunlight.

When Solace turned around, she was surprised to see Maggie standing in the doorway. Well, maybe not that surprised. The older woman looked anxious, apologetic, embarassed, and hurt all at once. Solace felt her heart drop. Maggie had only wanted to help, and here she had to run off and throw a hissy fit. Real mature.

"Yeah?" her voice cracked from the lack of sleep.

Maggie smiled at the one word, taking it as acceptance for her unspoken apology. In a way, it was.

"You need to come inside. There's someone I want you to meet."

Was it a dragonrider? Maybe, she thought, it was that girl who was heading here. Or perhaps the blind man that Twilight was talking about. Or someone else from either of her visions? Either way, the suspence was enough to make her reluctantly head inside.

The man she saw standing there was like no one she'd ever seen before; in real life, and in visions. He was pale with bright green eyes, white hair, and incredibly large ears. She managed to focus on a point in the floor, trying her hardest to avoid staring at those ears.

"This is who I was talking about," said Maggie, pushing Solace forward a little. Stubbornly the girl kept her gaze on the ground. Maggie's tone was hushed, even among the now busy tavern. "I'm sure if Arnold were to see her, he would agree with me. He does, after all, know about our 'King's past."

Now Solace looked up. "Are you talking about your daugh--"

Once again, Maggie's hand on her mouth interrupted her. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut,thought Solace bitterly.

I would advise against that. The Sightless One will need to hear your voice when you meet him.

From the back, there was the sound of a great flapping of wings, followed by an earthy crack. Twilight had broken free of her chains. A few people in the tavern glanced at the back then resumed with their business. Maggie winced. Perhaps it wasn't the first time something like this happened, although Solace couldn't think of any other normal situation. Though what was "normal?" Back home it certainly wasn't unhuman-looking men with large ears...

The flapping of wings was now over the tavern, followed by the scraping of something against the roof. Apparently, not only had Twilight broken free but had also taken the entire tree with her. Solace could just imagine the medium-sized dragon flying overhead with a long chain at her neck, and a tree dangling at the end of that.

It does not hinder me, although I must admit it is very annoying. Perhaps I will have the Blind One take it off when I see him. I've located him, as well as Azure.

Solace was outside by the time Twilight spoke to her. After excusing herself from the strange man and leaving Maggie once more, she hurried out the front door just in time to see the silhouette of her dragon flying North.

"Azure?" she said out loud.

A fellow dragon. He knows where to find us. Until I come back, stay inside.

It was so reminiscent of Maggie that Solace nearly shook her fist at the air. She'd been outside a total of three times today, and it seemed that no one wanted her out at all. How was she supposed to fight this "King Mael" if she wasn't even allowed out?

"I'm not a little kid anymore!" she yelled, causing quite a few people to turn her way. Even as she said it, she questioned it. Maybe there was something about her that made people think she was younger than her age...

Ridiculous, she thought, but headed back into the tavern anyways.

[Tolain]

The morning had been uneventful, only in that no one had pulled a knife on him. People entered and left the tavern, and Kadmas silently observed and listened. There was no place better than a tavern for that.

The wounded man had sparked his interest the most. Could Mael have tracked me down? Or is it an independant action against this guy? Against this town? Do I start running again?

In, the meantime, he took out some paper and began to plot a typical travelers map as a distraction to himself. The feedback was getting worse. When the wounded man staggered in and the girl became emotional, Kadmas began feeling very clearly the emotional atmosphere, accompanied by what could be only described as an intense migrane.

Scribbling in his notepad absently, Kadmas became lost in thought. I need to figure out how to shut out these intrusions. Since three months ago it feels like every living thing I come across is hell bent on cramming its feelings into my brain. It started with the dragons, and has been getting worse. There has to be a way to stop this garbage. I'm not one of those subhuman mindreaders. I don't want this, he thought, getting slightly annoyed.

At one point, a shiver ran down his spine as he heard the familiar flapping of dragon wings, and anyone present could see his posture instinctivly change defensive and remain that way for several minutes.

Tolain ordered another cup of coffee. That was always his solution to migranes. He had downed seven cups since morning, but that just seemed to make things worse. Trying another approach, Kadmas tried concentrating as hard as he could to just shut everything out.

After some time, the headache began to recede, and his method seemed to work. Glad for the relief, Kadmas grinned and called up the tavernkeeper and started to ask, "What do I owe you?"

He was interupted halfway into the sentence however, when the girl let out a shrill yell from outside, "I'm not a little kid anymore!" All at once his concentration broke and he choked on his coffee as the headache returned. This is ridiculous. At least I don't look out of place. I'm acting like a drunk with persistent hangover.

Kadmas scowled at the girl as she came back into the tavern. He groaned in pain as she passed him, and pointed at her nightgown "You know, maybe they wouldn't treat you like a kid if you didn't throw temper tantrums hourly like that."

He shook his head and picked up his coffee cup.

"...Sorry, it's been a rough morning." Kadmas muttered in a low, tired voice. He readjusted his sunglasses and looked down towards his lunch-plate as soon as he caught a glance of her eyes. Purple. Not normal. They're like mine.

[555Heretic666]

Irma made her way back to the dragon pen. "Irma! I've been talking to the other dragons! They aren't as dumb as I thought, they have news!" Keela shreiked at her when she got near. "People, dragonriders and their dragons have been travelling huge distances to get to Haven's Cove!" "What?, Haven's Cove, what is that?" Irma replied, confused.
"We must go!" Keela once again shreiked.
"But I don't know where it is?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, There isn’t a dragon alive that doesn’t know where Haven’s Cove is!"
Finally agreeing, Irma sent a message by pigeon to King mael of the news and jumped onto Keela's saddle, speeding off into the air towards Haven's Cove, armed and deadly...

[~skie~]

Skie rushed across the street, not caring about the blinking red hand trying it's best to control his life. No, not caring about the annoyed people on their cell phones, the taxi in a rush to find another customer before his night ended, nothing. He only cared about one thing at the moment...the person standing only 20 feet away.

She was standing on the sidewalk looking around, and it wasn't until the honking commotion to her right that she noticed him coming up beside her. She opened her mouth to speak...too late. He had already embraced her, but she accepted it gladly and held on as tight as she could. "I missed you..." he whispered into her ear. "I know" she replied.

They let go so that they could get a good look at each other. She started to fix his scarf that had started to fly off when he took off from across the street after finally spotting her. He just stared, at her eyes, her nose, that amber colored hair. He smiled, he always liked it when she wore it down...that it touched the middle of her back. It was straight and always shining, though you couldn't tell much now because of the black beanie she was wearing on her head.

She finally caught eye contact with him after she was finished with the scarf...then blushed. "what?" she said staring at the gound, kicking at the snow.

"Nothing..." he took her hand "So how are your parents? Did you have a good christmas back in Texas?" She smirked, "maybe..." she looked back at him, "and how was your christmas."

Skie moved closer and interlocked their fingers, kinda looking away almost bashful, "lonely..."

Silence...people talking, cars stopping at the intersection and starting again, the crunch of the snow audible from every movement and every step. New Years eve was always like this. They just stood, staring into each others eyes, just happy to be with each other again. A little sad that they couldn't feel each others warm skin because of the huge hooded jackets and gloves they were wearing...but they were together at least.

"come on...it's already started." He broke the silence finally, then took her hand and leaded her through the crowded sidewalkes. He held on tight, he didn't want to lose her amongst the people on their way to the parties and concerts.

It was about a 10 minute walk from where they were, the apartment complex, tallest in the district. They walked up the steps and Skie punched in the numbers at the door so that he could communicate with the correct room. "Ya!" came a mans voice from the box. "Hey Darian it's me, open up!" Said Skie as he rubbed his hands together to keep warm, a white cloud escaping his mouth.

There was no reply. He looked back at the shivering girl behind him, confused, then back at the white box trying to figure out what was wrong. "HEY MARIA!! WHERE'D YOU PICK UP THIS LOSER?!" came a woman's voice from three stories up. She was hanging out the window, shadows were dancing behind her, the party was in full swing.

"OH HE WAS IN AN ALLEY A FEW BLOCKS AWAY!!!" she yelled back as Skie came up behind her and put his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. "Thought he was cute...that I'd bring him home with me." speaking so that only those two could hear.

Finally there was a buzzer, and Skie opened up the door so that they could both go on up...

---------- - - - - - - - - - -

They were on the roof now. From here they could see time square in the distance, the ball on the spire and the unlit 2006 under it. "See what I mean...you can see everything from here, and it's not too crowded." Skie said leaning over the edge with his hands on the wall. "perfect..."

He turned and looked at Maria. He leaned against the wall trying to look cool with the buildings and their lights shining behind him, no one was there to see though. She was looking up at the sky, watching the snow flurries fall from the heavens. She cupped her hands and caught one, but it turned into a small drop of water quickly...just like the rest. She pulled her hands around her arms, shivering, then looked towards him. He was just standing there, mesmerized, watching her hair blow in the wind...not yet noticing that she was cold

"you're doing it again...staring." she said as she walked towards him, reaching him, embracing him and putting her head to into his chest. Skie snapped out of it, and smiled, embracing her and putting his head on top of hers. "I can't help it...It's been two weeks..."

She laughed to herself, then without warning punched him in the stomach, and then took two steps back as he doubled over slightly. "Well if you hadn't agreed to work during christmas you could've come with me." she yelled at him, still smiling mischeviously.

He recovered, then stood up straight and walked slowly towards her, taking it step...by step. "I know, I'm sorry...but next year...I promise." He stopped right in front of her, she had put a serious look on her face, and neither said a word. He bit his lip, she just gave him a cold stare.

"Ok..." She said, "I forgive you, and you better be there. She stuck a finger in his face, and gave one of those smiles that let Skie know that he was going to be in trouble if he didn't keep his promise.

"10....9.....8....7"

It was coming from everywhere at once...the ball was dropping in the distance.

"6...5...4..."

They looked at each other, and smiled...just like before...and many times after that.

"3...2...1..."

They couldn't hear the "happy new year" ringing out from around them. Skie was flying now, the kiss bringing him through the many buildings of New York City, plunging him up and over, then down towards the street...

wizzing past everything, the lights began to blur, the wind drowned everything out...it got brighter...and night turned to day, as the buildings turned into...

...clouds.

"Maria..." He whispered to himself.

Skie was on his dragon, which was white (except for the head and part of the neck, which was red...and various other parts of his body.) and as big as a pick up truck...which wasn't very big at all.

(It's been...two years...) Skie thought to himself, but was brought out of his transe when the creature looked back and growled at him.

"almost there huh? It's about time." He patted the dragon with his with his gloved hand, letting Baron know that it was time to go faster. It was evening, the sun was setting, and by the time they got there it would be night. It didn't matter when they got there though, nothing mattered to him anymore. Not the message they received, not the king nor the world he was in (which explains why it took so long for him to come)...no...the only thing that mattered to him was his memories.

His memories of her...

...his Maria.

[Lune]

Mael sat on his throne in a most un-Kingly manner. His feet rested apart from each other, his knees bent, his head weighted on his right hand and the elbow sitting on the arm-rests. He'd opted to keep the old, golden throne but had changed the upholstery from the once vivid red to a dark, murky green. The rest of the room had changed, too. Once upon a time it had been decorated in brilliant colours of gold, bronze, copper and red. It had held balls on a monthly basis, and was once full of vibrantly dressed citizens of all species.

Now it had been stripped completely; the once polished white marble walls stained with grey dust and black dirt. The floor was covered in ragged carpets. In fact, it looked more like an evil lair than the throne room of a King.

He looked bored, but was in fact musing. A pigeon had come in this morning; a pigeon with a rather interesting message...

Haven's Cove, eh?

Apparently, Irma's blasted dragon had known about this "Haven's Cove" already. He would need to talk to that young dragonrider of his and find out exactly why he was never told. The thought of a place in his own land that he had never heard of made Mael furious. What made him even more furious was the fact that dragonriders were heading to this place, apparently driven by a message sent by Maggie and Bob Traeh, no less.

He would have to do something about this.

He wasn't stupid enough to not know what was going on now. He'd had a sneaking suspicion about Maggie and Bob, but had kept it to himself in memory of her. He knew what they were up to now; thinking that they could simply recruit some young girl from another land who looked a little like his one and only to distract him from more important things.

Yet his curiousty was sparked. What if this girl really was the reincarnate of Saling Traeh? And if she was, then Maggie and Bob had just done the impossible, and had just proven his own case... He wondered about those two. Did they really think they were going against him by doing this? Or did they somehow know that they were actually helping him? Perhaps he shouldn't have them killed.

Mael wrote his own message and sent it with the pigeon, along with a bit of his own magic that would drive the bird to fly non-stop until it reached Irma. Fortunately, as he knew now, Haven's Cove was at least a two-day flight even for his oh-so-talented dragonrider. Once the pigeon caught up with her, it would probably drop dead from exhaustion.

The message had clear instructions:

Retrieve Margaret and Robert Traeh, preferably alive.
Retrieve all dragons. Those who fight are to be killed.
Convert all dragonriders. Those who fight, again, are to be killed.
Retrieve the girl staying at the Traeh's inn, alive.
And finally, kill the rest.

He smiled to himself, his thin lips peeling back to create a darkly smug expression.

"No one crosses the King."

[Riplen]

Name: Dramer Velpheyer, ‘Gale’
Gender: Male
Age: Old. Three hundred at the least. He's long since stopped counting.
Species: Dragon
Place of Origin: Atlantia
Appearances/Clothing –

Dragon:
Dramer is roughly four times the size of a full grown man, large to carry a single passenger without causing himself too much discomfort. His leg and wing muscles are finely toned from hard work and training, his claws razor sharp, and his teeth like daggers. His scar ridden body, covered in tarnished bronze scales that have long since lost their metallic shine, provide a little insight into the conflict filled life he has lead thus far. Flanking each side of his head are three ebony horns, scaling in length the higher up they are. His eyes are a tired shade of bluish green, giving his scaly visage an almost dour look.

Human:
In human form, Dramer appears a man in his early forties, standing about five foot nine with short cut salt and pepper colored hair and full beard. He clothes himself in rugged hiking boots, dark woolen pants, short sleaved white shirt, padded leather vest, and a black fisherman’s hat. The hat serves its purpose by concealing the small horns protruding from the top his head and casting a shadow over his eyes to hide his slit pupils. Depending on how much time and effort Dramer uses in building up the human form his body will exhibit less draconic features. Still, regardless of his physical appearance he manages to stifle his draconic aura, making it easier to blend into society.

Brief Bio:

Dramer, nicknamed Gale after the swift and harsh winds, has been combating the enemies of Dragonkind for as long as he can remember. For centuries he’s tracked, stalked, and dispatched slayers and slavers of every sort. At the smallest rumor of a new slayer gaining in strength he’d take wing and deal with the individual before problems could arise.

It wasn’t long until he became known as that bronze dragon the slayer’s guild was talking about. At first it was the thrill of the hunt and the danger that drove him on, though over time he found himself driven by duty to keep his kind safe from others. After killing hundreds of people he found it all mundane and boring. For a while he’d considered giving it up, but word reached his ears about a young man slaying multiple dragons before reaching maturity.

His mouth began to water. One last hunt. One final crippling blow. To a kill a prodigy such as that would seal his transition from fame to legend. He set out again with a newfound energy and enthusiasm.
Visions of grandeur filled his mind as he closed the distance between himself and his target. His bloodlust grew with every inch he got closer to his prey. As he got closer he began sense the faint spirits of the slain that hovered next to the young man. He eventually pin-pointed the location of his goal and poised himself to swoop in for one fell strike, but the trail suddenly vanished.

His mind reeled. The hunt had become his sole purpose in life, his obsession. To have victory ripped from his jaws when he was so close was impossible. He fell back for the night and set out again the next day, but once again when he was within spitting distance of the Blue Blaze the trail ran cold. The pattern repeated itself for years. When it finally became clear that if he kept it he’d lose his mind, Dramer stopped and refined his strategy.

He suspected that somehow the man had been able to sense when a dragon was nearby and seemed to possess an unnatural ability to hide himself from others. Over time Dramer learned to mask his draconic spirit and cloak himself in a human body. With an excruciating amount of concentration he eventually managed to hone in on the psychic residue the Blaze was emitting.

It wasn’t perfect. Dramer could never completely hide all of his draconic features and the psychic trail was always two days old, but it was better than nothing. He took his time. He purchased a map of the area and charted the Blue Blaze’s trail, determining which areas his target most frequently visited and where the best location to lie in wait would be.

He wasn’t surprised when his new method of tracking failed him. It was only a matter of time, he knew, but after lying in wait for weeks Dramer decided it was time to relax. There was no point in going any further. He’d fought for too long already. His hunt abandoned and loss accepted, he flew off and built a fake life in Haven’s Cove, hoping to spend at least a couple years in relaxation.

---

Dramer sat alone at a table, silhouetted by light seeping in from the window behind him. A small, fading candle illuminated a parchment with rough sketches of a building plan in front of him. A thin piece of charcoal, wrapped tightly in cloth rested beside a pint of ale. The alcohol did nothing for him. As far as he was concerned it might as well have been water, but he’d developed a taste for the drink over the last handful of years.

He leaned forward over the parchment and scanned it for a few long minutes before shaking his in discontent. Sighing, he straightened his back and adjusted his hat so it covered his eyes. “It’s impossible,” he muttered. “McDile wants that shed built before the week is out, but the idiot doesn’t have the materials needed. By the time he puts an order in with the mill and receives his lumber it’ll be at least four days too late.”

And, of course, I’ll get the blame. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the chair, balancing on two legs. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t stopped hunting. Would be less of a headache. Fine, have it his way. I’ll shift back and uproot a half dozen trees from his property and cut them myself.

Since he arrived years ago Dramer has made himself a reputation of being a handyman of sorts. He wasn’t sure where he got his talent for carpentry, but accepted it as having natural knack for it. Rarely did he charge coin for his services, instead accepting fresh meat or livestock for bigger jobs. Easier to lie and say he butchered the animals himself rather than try to explain missing cattle whenever he got hungry.

He reached out and grabbed the mug with a firm hand and lifted it from the table. He gazed in disgust at the ring left in the wooden surface by the condensation. I just made this accursed thing three days ago. They need to invest in some coasters. He raised the glass to his lips with his right arm and wiped away the ring of water with his left as he finished the pint. Setting the glass down he rose to his feet and stretched his back while surveying the tavern.

The place seems a little livelier today. If this is a sign a boost in business I should gather more lumber for a few dozen chairs. Who ever crafted the lot they have should be drawn and quartered.

With that in mind he made his way over to the bar, keeping his head low to avoid eye contact. He wrapped his knuckles on the wood to get the bartender’s attention. “Another pint, please. Seems like I’ll be here for another while ye—” He was interrupted by a couple things in that moment. Yelling, screaming, arguing, and the outburst of the man next to him cut his line of speech, but it was the sudden flicker of a familiar energy that caused his train of thought to come crashing to a halt. Dramer turned to the side and stared intently to the back of the man’s head.

This has to be some sick joke. That can’t possibly be… He looked into a mirror hanging on the wall and saw the reflection of the stranger’s face. It matched the rough description he'd been given. And that aura... I’ll be damned. It’s him. His heart raced and was about to lose his composure, but quickly brought himself under control. I came here to take a break from that life. I’m not ready to go back. Not yet. Besides, won’t look good of I started breaking the peace law.

“No harm done. Looks like you have a lot on your mind. Here, stay a while. Take a load off.” He said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, letting a small bit of his draconic spirit trickle out as he did. “Barkeep, make that two pints. One for my friend here. Put it on my tab.”

[555Heretic666]

Irma could hear annoying flapping behind her again. She had only been gone for a few hours when this stupid pigeon had been desperately trying to either race her and Keela or get past them! She made the dragon slow down for the pigeon to catch up with them. The poor creature just flew right into her, but with a crushing hand, Irma caught it. She noticed a letter attached to it. "Oh what now... King Mael, oh. Hey Keela, listen to this: I have to retrieve Margaret and Robert Traeh, retreive all dragons, convert the riders and capture this girl... but we can kill all the rest!" Irma read to an inquisitive Keela.
She sent one back quickly, explaining that Keela found out about the hideout through others and she would plan an attack soon. "We have to convert the dragons and their riders, I'll leave you to pursuade the dragons, any that fight are to be killed, I'll deal with the riders. I have to get a girl, margaret and robert. The girl will probably be the most protected. I'll need back-up. I'm sure if I try anything, most will jump up for a fight, lets tell King Mael's other riders about this, and sort out a plan!"
Irma and Keela were all set and ready to begin their journey to Haven's cove, their back-up would help out when the fight would start. It took two lengthy days to reach the sleepy little town, Irma was tired, and the adrenaline of another promising fight had worn her out. She jumped off Keela, and told him to find the other dragons "Be nice at first, act a little, only if they try to harm you, kill them, or hurt them enough to make them know you mean business. Good Luck..." She whispered to him and patted his rough, thick hide. Irma set off to a local Inn with all her hidden weapons, she would rest a day, let Keela do his thing, then attack.
Keela browsed around the town, trying not to get into busy areas and sticking to alleyways or rooftops. Glacing around with his bright, gleaming eyes, he sensed the presence of fellow dragons, but they were not there, one had left about a day earlier, another hadn't arrived yet.There was another dragon, but Keela wasn't so sure, it was in a different form, taking on the shape of a human! Keela didn't approve of this, being a dragon himself, he thought it was a shame and disgrace to dragonkind. But he did see the tavern, the secret inn everyone was suddenly rushing to, the place were there was to be a horrendous fight. Keela was prepared.