Conestoga
(#43056223)
Inkeeper for the launchpad.
Minuteman
Mimic Buttersnake
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Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.62 m
Wingspan
5.38 m
Weight
668.38 kg
Genetics
Brown
Cherub
Cherub
Soil
Shimmer
Shimmer
Ivory
Lace
Lace
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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CONESTOGA pragmatic jokesterly knowledgeable DETAILS NICKNAME; Coney GENDER; Male PRONOUNS; He/him/his ORIENTATIONS; Aromantic ALIGNMENT; Neutral good LIKES; aircraft, memorabilia, dice, hunting, paintings, pulp sci fi, cross-stitching DISLIKES; noisy customers, politics, alcohol RELATIONS NAME; relation NAME; relation NAME; relation ART xxx by credit xxx by credit xxx by credit  |
Conestoga's family ran the Twenty-Sider Inn successfully for almost eighty years. People would come in almost daily to rest after a long day of rail travel. They would be met with a hot meal from the Drow Bard Saloon, prices never too high and always willing to go down for a poor traveler. They'd get to enjoy live music from the railside town's few bands. Or, if they preferred a more relaxing way to wind down, they could rent a book off the shelves of the family library. Most of them were about the history of rail travel, with aviation and nautical history making a few appearances. The fiction section, as some guests complained, was a little sparse. But the warm beds they settled into that evening were worth it. The next day, they'd get a complimentary breakfast, or they could order something fancy if they went up to the bar. Then they'd check out, all the rooms were cleaned up, and Conderoga's family got ready for the next evening's shipment. Growing up, Conderoga learned to like the inn-owner lifestyle. He had new children to play with every evening, and as he grew older, he inherited his parents' appreciation for the opportunity to talk with guests from all walks of life. Secretly, though, part of him hated it. He knew as long as the inn was there, he was tied down to the same stretch of track in the middle of nowhere, Highland Scrub. He was tired of the sun beating down on his feathers, and the anxiety-inducing lightning storms that senselessly tormented the land beneath them. He was tired of dust. He wanted adventure. Real adventure, like the guests passing through on the railway got. Then finally, he got what he wanted. The Stormcatcher must have been listening to his prayers. War had come; there was war on the Northwestern border! Conderoga realized this was his only chance to get out of the old railway town and have an adventure for his own. He enlisted happily in the Lightning Imperial Air Force. When he left, he promised his family he'd come back and help with the inn; but ONLY after getting medals for his work as a pilot. Teary-eyed and proud, they nodded and hugged him goodbye. Conderoga didn't make a half bad pilot. He flew some of his flight's first supersonic jet fighters. The LIAF life suited him. He came to genuinely enjoy waking up early in the morning for a run around his air base (and later his carrier, the STC Jackalope), and spent all the time he could either in the cockpit or in the simulators trying to better his abilities. He wanted to be the best pilot he could be, not because he wanted to outshine his peers, but because he genuinely loved flying. There were few things more thrilling than the acceleration as his jet was propelled forward by railguns built into the deck of the carrier, or dogfighting with fellow Lightning patriots over the Fishspine reef. He almost didn't notice that his family stopped writing him. The war ended a few years later, and Conestoga was awarded a few medals for his time as a fighter pilot. Among them was the Plasma Ace medal, for pilots who had taken down more than ten enemy aircraft. He invited his family to his awards ceremony, but got no response. Ah well, he figured. Must've gotten lost in the mail. But it still hurt a little when his family never showed up to their own son's award ceremony. He came home, ready for a hot Drow Bard Saloon dinner and a cushioned bed, but he got none of those things. The saloon was gone, burnt down in a fire. And his family was gone with it. He was dismayed, but he was also determined. He spent his savings building a new inn. It wouldn't be grand, and it wouldn't have the old family library, but it would be the Twenty-Sider Inn, and that was what mattered. The plot of land, he'd been learned, was left to him, along with his family's humble but healthy fortune. He poured it into construction projects, taking out a few loans so he'd still have some money for himself to live off of until the inn was back in business. It took months of hard work, and he pitched in himself too, but by the end of the year, he had the inn back again. His family wasn't here to see it, but he'd keep the promise he made to them. But while he'd been gone, the tracks had been redone. Now the railway was a high-speed rail, and trains didn't stop here like they used to. There was the highway, but there weren't as many travelers. When it came time to repay the loans, Conestoga had to pay them out of his own pocket to keep the inn alive. He had the inn, but he barely had enough to feed himself. Three years passed, and Conestoga figured the inn was done for. He barely got five customers a week now; it wasn't enough to keep the inn alive. Eighty years since it had opened. And now it all had to come to an end. Then one day, he got enough guests, he had to flip the vacancy side to "NO" for the first time in years. They were construction workers, from the urban areas out East. They told him the Stormcatcher was planning something. Something big. He wanted to launch rockets, they said, rockets so powerful they could reach the stars. And the launchpad he'd chosen had to be far from civilization. This old railroad town was the closest thing to the pad. They said it insulting the town, but Conestoga was nearly in tears. Could this be how he kept the inn alive? Sure enough, more and more dragons were checking into the inn every day. He had to order extra supplies for the Drow Bard Saloon just to keep them all fed and happy. He didn't drink himself--he'd had a few bad experiences in the Air Force--but he kept more alcohol on hand and learned to mix drinks so he could at least give the poor bartender a weekend. He didn't mind the extra work. He was happy work. It meant his inn was alive. Once the launchpad was complete, the inn got busier and busier. First the launch controllers came from out West, booking two to three a room so they could fit everyone they needed inside. Soon, real cosmonauts were showing up every now and then. They even sent out a government media agent to the inn. She trained Conestoga on how to avoid questions from the press he couldn't answer, and how to keep them away from the cosmonauts to protect them from harassment. Behind the scenes, Conestoga had saved money to expand the inn. It was now big enough to house not only all the launch controllers, but sightseers. There were tourists in the inn again. But now, they weren't just passing through: they were staying to watch launches on the pad a few miles away! He started hosting barbecues at the inn, letting the guests eat what they wanted while the rockets launched. The dream of space was alive in Lightning. But more importantly, to Conestoga, his inn was. And that's how Conestoga became the Baikonur Spaceflight Agency's unofficial inkeeper. |
TEMPLATE BY XEMRISS #44020;
NATURE BANNER AND BOTTLE BY OSIEM #30450;
NATURE BANNER AND BOTTLE BY OSIEM #30450;
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