StayAndFight

Lightweaver Marble Bust

Trinkets

A stoic bust depicting the Lightweaver. It is comprised of polished marble that glints in the sunlight.

105

About/Personality
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Story/art/other
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Unhatched Light Egg

Dragon Eggs

A beaming, crystalline egg that is nearly perfectly round. It is difficult to look straight at this egg, but something makes you want to.

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StayAndFight

[url=]Same Old War by Our Last Night[/url]
Should I run away and change my name
Or should I stay and fight through the night

"This fire burns out of control. Watch you don't get yourself burned. I know I have."

Gladiator Former Traveler and Shade Hunter

Prior Name Rizoel

Fire Warrior Demigoddess of Flame and Battle

Volrin #261879, The page has been burned, obscuring the date...

Rizoel did some soul-searching while she was in Myura's clan. She met a calm, collected Tundra named Snowdrift, and upon listening to her explain her intense anger issues, he dedicated the next few weeks towards trying to help her with her violent temperament. He taught her some valuable lessons that she took to heart, such as "forgive and forget-- as long as it's a minor offense." This accepting, carefree nature seemed to work pretty well for the Tundra, but no matter how much time she spent doing breathing exercises or trying to channel her anger into creativity, nothing worked: her heart still hummed with fury and her claws still ached for violence. She thanked Snowdrift for his efforts, but left the following morning, teeth grit painfully with frustration.


GrinningWolf24 #212075, 6/1/17

The Plaguelands. Desolate. Harsh. Survival of the strongest. Very much away from most other dragons. Away from anyone I could hurt. Despite the fire burning in her body, Rizoel could still feel a little gnawing of loneliness. She had been wandering for quite a while now, her partially self-imposed exile no easier than when she had begun.

Her pride and stubbornness would not let her go back to Magen Rishon, no matter how terrible it felt to wander aimlessly like this. Angrily, she swung her sword at the fleshy tendrils that criss-crossed the toxic soil under her feet. Each solid squish felt remotely satisfying. Half of her was content to keep swinging, wanting to hit something bigger, to hack it apart. The other, quieter side of her wanted to stop; to not give in. This side of her knew that her love of ripping things apart was wrong; that while she gave it sway she would never be accepted by anywhere but the lowest of dens.

Swish. Swish. Swish. Swi-unk. The rhythmic slicing of her blade was halted. She looked down, wrenching it free from where it had stuck into the ground. ...Not ground.... She leaned closer, seeing a trapdoor, partially covered with some young tendrils, grasping and seeking to coat it over. With a few deft movements, the growing threat was removed. With a heave, she lifted it open, peering down into the deep shaft below. I suppose... there is only one way to see what's down there. Maybe if I'm lucky, I will be walking right into a fight...

She jumped down, gently descending, small fires glowing to life around her. Their flickering made the tunnel seem eerie and unnatural. She touched down, and trotted about one hundred yards before she came across a torch, and in its light a dozing tundra dragon, dressed in armor.

She picked up a small stone from the ground, readying her sword should she need it- and she tossed the stone. It struck true, and the tundra awoke with a small yelp, rattling his armor. "Who goes there?"

"Rizoel, Demigoddess of Flame and Battle." The title she chose surprised even herself. His eyes blinked in confusion, but he nodded, taking in her appearance and slowly unlocking the large wooden door behind him. He gestures towards it, and she sheathes her blade, walking through, curious as to what sort of clan would let a clearly armed and experienced stranger walk right through the front gate. As she was contemplating this, the door closed with a resounding whump!

She quickly learned that this clan, Namesong, was a group of battle-hardened mercenaries and scholars. They cared little for extra fighters walking in- everyone who knew their way around a battlefield could be a potential ally. In fact, she learned that they were consigning foreign fighters to help them in a program they were calling Borrowed Time. It gave the clan more fighting power to help seek out and defeat shade remnants known as the Story Vortex.

She paused, debating if she should join... but terrified that she would lose control and hurt those around her; the other fighters she would be working with. She spent the night in the clan's traveler's quarters, and in the morning she set out, determined to help this clan's mission- whether they knew it our not. Perhaps she could temper her bloodlust in a noble cause.... a noble cause that also let her use her blade without fear....

Her mind was made up. She would fight the shade fragments. She would use her flames to bring light to the darkness, or go down in a blaze of battle trying.


Kapara #223028, two weeks before the June solstice

The caravanserai in the desert was discreet and out of the way, perfect for a Skydancer who didn't want to be noticed. She spent her daylight hours in the harpy roosts, destroying shade-touched creatures and befriending the untouched. But she was noticed, by a spiral. Rizoel had seen how he innocently jestered with the other clan members during the day, laughter ringing clear. On her third night there he entered her tent uninvited. Rizoel jumped to her feet, on the offensive. When the other spoke, it was like another being spoke from beneath his skin.

"You are a daughter of the Goddess Kali, are you not."

"Who are you and why are you possessing that body." Rizoel hissed.

Something unfamiliar slithered in the spiral's crystaline skin. It was not shade, but it was dark. Rizoel surpessed a shudder. This dragon was like her mother, but so, so different. "I am not a possessor. This is the body I have had since I was born. But I understand your confusion, my mask has become my identity. This truth is now the invador."

"Leave. You disgust me." Rizoel positioned her sword, ready to draw should the other not obey.

"Of course, I forget my manners." The being twisted and slid back through the flap in the tent door. His silhouette was cast onto the pale canvas. "What you may think of me, I am not an enemy. You seek to control your fire. I tell you that there are two ways. Make it pure or make it corrupted. Choose quickly, or fate will choose for you."

He was gone.


GrinningWolf24 #212075, 6/23/17

The thought of that slimy, dark presence being anywhere near her sent slight shivers through her core. She gave a rough shake, a few embers detaching themselves from the tips of her feathers and swirling into nonexistence as they quickly burned out. She needed to leave this place. She needed to get away from this creature so like herself and yet so chillingly foreign.

She quickly found her wings taking her back toward the one place that seemed relatively safe for the time being. After the large, thick door that acted as the entrance to Namesong was behind her, she breathed a little easier. What am I doing, running scared? Why should I? Her only answer was the memory of that dark presence envoloping her. It had felt like she was a lone candle pushing back the blackness of night. No. She corrected herself. A single candle pushing back the darkness of a crypt. A deep, underground chamber that should best be left forgotten.

She was mulling over the particulars of how best to slay the creature when a hideously strong ripple tripped down her spine. She stopped dead in her tracks,
looking around with quick, covert glances. It took only an instant to locate the dark blue tundra who was staring her down like he had seen a shooting star. Her fingers already itching towards her blade, she slowly slunk up to him. "What are you looking at,
fluffball?!" The end of her snarl turned into a slight gasp- the air around this dragon felt so strange! The fur on her back quivered, as if charged with static. Looking hard into this tundra's eyes, waiting for his answer, she felt another ripple. A click in her mind. Her gaze hardened, but not with hatred or confusion. More like distrust. "...You're another demigod. You're like me."

The tundra shook his head, the motion going to the very tip of his tail like a cat. His answer: the mere phrase "I am Fenrir." His eyebrows came together. "Best be careful of the dark- it does not bode you well." With this cryptic statement, he stood once more, seemingly to trot off. But Rizoel stopped him. She quickly darted in front of him, still staring him down like an offended alpha wolf.

"What are you, demigod? Son of a prophet? Seer of visions?" Her sneer became more of a smirk. "Or maybe you're just a washed up son of a minor deity; a demigod of nothing." Her bared grin did not appear to phase him. Instead, he merely stood, lifting a paw in her direction.

"Do not tred here, Rizoel, Demigoddess of Fire. Such a domain is not your place. Darkness only reigns after the light has been snuffed out. Best case, it is because the lights are far away and mere pinpricks. Do not test your luck; you will be overwhelmed."

"What does that mean, huh?!" Rizoel snarled, all her feathers and fur erect now in disdain and threat. Small motes of flame were drifting about in her agitation. Still, the tundra retained his aloof composure. His paw touched the ground once more.

His pink eyes began to fiz with intensity. The air around the two of them grew thick. "I am Fenrir, Demigod of DEATH and REBIRTH. DO NOT MEDDLE WHERE YOUR POWERS HAVE NO SWAY." His voice was far deeper, the reverberations from it making the very air seem to thrum. Slightly shaken, Rizoel finally stepped aside. She was too stunned to truly react how she would want to. He passed her by, not looking at her anymore. Before he was out of sight, he paused. "Beware the dark, young one."

His power. It was old, far more ancient than even her lineage of power. It was also familiar. It was what had made her skin crawl and shiver. That had felt far different than the chilling sensation of the entity she had encountered before, though. His power was dark, yes, but a warm darkness. Like an endless night sky filled with stars, too far for any real light to shine, but all the more beautiful for it.

Corruption or purification? The wheels of fate began to turn....

ZenithNadir #44542, 7/7/2017

Rizoel was not fond of the desert. It was true, she could endure it, but endurance did not encourage enjoyment. Joining a trading caravan was the quickest way to find an orderly route through the Shifting Expanse - she was close to the borders of the Light flight at this point, and was eager to be on her way out of the dust.

The clan she found herself at next was a strange jumble of scientists, engineers, merchants, and mages. The surface levels were primarily concerned with trade and commerce, and it was to the surface that Rizoel kept. The dark tunnels beneath the surface were full of secrets, not evil. She felt no burning urge to venture into them, especially when she had many interesting delights on the surface to occupy her.

One of the lair's residents caught her attention several times. He was a frequent sight among some of the more esoteric tents, where traveling mages and herbalists made camp to sell their wares. He purchased nothing, and sold nothing - merely wandered the tents, making conversation with the vendors. There was something peculiar about him that nevertheless held Rizoel's interest, and she continued to observe the Nocturne throughout the first week of her stay in the Suncircle Clan.

She learned that the Nocturne, named Apollon, was a magician himself, one with tremendous power and none of the notoriety she was accustomed to seeing in mages. When she asked why he had not sought to advance himself through the use of his considerable skills, he looked away briefly, shamefaced. "It is because of my... heritage," he said softly. "While some consider it a potent blessing and an easy sacrifice, I do not. I am frequently lonely, but there are few outside my family who understand me." With more gentle coercion, Rizoel managed to extract the full story - that dragons of his family, the Dawnguard, were frequently born with tremendously strong magic, but that this magic came at the sacrifice of their familial ties as they were forgotten by any dragons who did not share the same blood curse.

Rizoel could sympathize. Her own heritage, while not as intrinsically dogged by loss, bore its own share of mixed blessings. And it had been some time since she had hatchlings of her own. While she would forget about their existence because of the blood spell, she couldn't help but wonder what sort of havoc would be wrought by the offspring of a demigoddess and a bloodmage. Perhaps there was a way to cheat this curse one day, and eventually see for herself.


Zikul #12962, 16/7 2017

One rarely stumbles onto an entire Kingdom, but then again, one is rarely a demi-goddess, and as those two unusual circumstances met and intermingled, Rizoel happened to be the exception to the rule.

The gates to Daberath’s Kingdom were clad in some sort of fake gold, not that their pretense of grandeur made them any less difficult to cross, even for her. Guards passed her over meticiously, all her possessions were pockeded (for safety reasons – their safety, she was sure). Still, she accepted this treatment with a minimum of fuss. Why? Because she’d picked up a trace, a feeling, some sort of shade vibe, stronger than what she had felt from the shade corrupted beastclans.

It had to be a dragon.

Once within the walls, it didn’t take her sharp senses long to lead her into a building, and once in the building, it took her even shorter to find the hidden trap door under a rug. There, in the thick darkness, she found what could be best described as a twisted man’s crypt: Cages donning dead animals hung from the ceiling, glowing liquids simmered in glass containers protruding from the walls, and in the furthest end of the den, sat a small dragon haunched over a parchment, scribbling in the light of a single, blue candle. And he stank of the shade.

As she approached, she felt her side for her blade, only to be reminded that it had been confiscated.
“Greetings to you, traveler,” the Fae had interrupted her with a surprisingly calm demeanor, turning around in his chair and perching on it, ice white eyes sat on her. Somehow, she’d expected him to be shadow flight.
“What are you?” she thought to ask him, fighting the urge to destroy him already. He flickered his frills at her with a motionless expression, eyes wandering over her like he was searching for something and not finding it.
“I could ask you the same,” he took off from the chair and fluttered in the air to get at face level with her, “all dragons are touched by the shade, every single one of us. Yet you, you carry no trace of shade, none at all... I’ve never met someone such as yourself. Fascinating how you have ended yourself up in my laboratory.”
“Is that what you call all this?” she waved at the cages, “What is it you do here? What’s with all the dead animals?” The fae slicked his frills backwards for a short moment, then wilted them a bit with what could be best described as a smile.
“I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you think,” he flew over to a cage where the body of a white rabbit laid sprawled over the bottom, “stole them from the food stocks, yes. Look,” he reached his claws between the bars, touching the fur. Something alike to un-existence crossed between his skin and that of the animal, and then, as if it had been sleeping and nothing more, it got to its paws. Rizoel remained rooted to the ground – she had never reflected on what shadetouched truly implied, not until this moment. She’d seen it be done...!
“I should kill you,” she accused him in a low growl, getting ready to do just that. The Fae turned his head sidewise to her.
“You are in the middle of a totalitarian society that still upholds death penalty without trial,” he cared to inform her, “travelers have been known to disappear for much less than murder. My society might not condone what I do here, but they care to show their citizens that justice is upheld – if I die, you die. Oh, you might be different, with that pure soul of yours,” he pointed at her with a crooked claw, “but there is only one of you, and hundreds of them...” He smiled, and in that moment, she lept forward. She thought she’d really kill him, but instead she’d flung her arm into the cage and snapped the neck of the rabbit. Dead once more, it knew peace again and she let it slip out of her hand.
“If your society knows justice, I’ll show you justice,” her face was so close to his as she spoke, that she could feel his breath on her skin – strangely cold and moist.

She had left his laboratory then, and got to see first hand how efficient this society’s justice system were – not fifteen minutes after she’d found a guard and informed him of what she’d seen, the fae was hauled out of his den and dragged away.
“What are you going to do with him?” she asked one of the guards and hurried after them, “Death penalty?”
“And release all that shade energy? No,” he chuckled, “we have labour camps for people like him. Now, you should remove yourself from my presence, or I will be forced to arrest you for causing a social disturbance,” he informed her instead.

As she left the clan, Rizoel thought of what had just happened. Somehow, she thought she’d feel better now that the shade touched dragon wasn’t practising in his cellar anymore, but instead she felt like she had done something wrong. Almost as if she’d destroyed an innocent life – and that concept disturbed her. She had never really thought like this before.


Guineapigsfly #251531, 2nd of September

Life had been exciting for Rizoel. Discoveries left and right, adventures before and behind... it was no wonder that for some inexplicable reason she found herself right in the middle of the domain of the Windsinger... with no idea where she had landed.

Her last memory was a fierce gale that blown through her resting place. Yet she had not fought the gale. A demigoddess so great as her, it would have been of no consequence to simply fly out but inside that twisting tornado of fierce winds... she found peace. The peace she had not felt for a long while. It was that very peace which stopped her from winging her way out of there.

The land was so... green. She could not help but think how easily under her power, the crisp grass would burn and turn brown and red. The now soft and gentle wind, would turn hot and blistering, just how she was used to.
She shook away the violent thoughts and for once it was easier to do.
The unending green pastures somehow helped her to think with a clear mind.

After an indefinite amount of time, it may have been hours, it may have been centuries a green and orange fae fluttered down from above, bearing resemblance to a tree, except there were no trees nearby.

The fae tilted her head at her, in a beckoning motion and flew off. She found herself following until she reached a dip in the earth that actually hid a vast amount of small caves. Clusters of bamboo hid the entrance of the cave and soft grass lined the hollow.
Rizoel laid down on the grass enjoying this small bit of peace.

The fae soon went back to her carrying a small assortment of insects and seafood. She said, "Welcome to the hollow, where everyone can stay
"

She lived in the small wind clan for a long time. The Days Drifted pass like the breeze and it soon time to go.
"Goodbye" she called over her sholder as she flew away.





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