It is my strong belief that to resurrect the order to its full strength, it must take ones unity between man and dragon to make this a possibility! The very core of my research since the dragonsong ended, and all the sacrifices I have made of my ethics and my own being to ensure this happens has been a more fruitful endeavour than I ever could have imagined!
Oohn Khar shares the very same dedication to our cause, and my scaled brother here (Over time we consider each other family indeed) has been the key I have needed to make this happen! Our aetherical flow is now synergised, and our attacks run as one mind... each connected and one absolute unit in how we operate.
Our abilities are empowered by one another, and an extra pair of eyes can improve sight quite a bit when trying to get a outside hand on the opponent, and our fire has been a great boon to turn the tide of our conflicts in our favour!
Our current objectives rely on a aetherical fusing of ones form, although the aetherical strain on this is quite significant, we are working on making this a more longer lasting effect that can temporarily increase our speed, and aetherical power by almost double! Once we manage to repair my armour, we will try once again... nothing comes without sacrifice!
Bezgod Pickett was a mercenary for hire, a free sword just looking for work to make it through several suns. He was hired by a rich gentleman who wanted his daughter protected at all costs as she went to and fro from the mansion. The daughter he was requested to protect was a Miqo’te named Aerea. She was apparently skilled in the elemental magicks and went to classes to teach her how to control and focus her abilities. After a few years of him guarding her, he had asked her hand in marriage with approval from her father, she accepted. They moved to The Mist where they bought a small house, Bezgod went back to be a hired hand doing odd jobs here and there. He had left on a job for several weeks only to return to an empty home. There were no signs of a struggle or a break-in, his wife’s things laid right where she had left them, even the items he knew she could not be without, remained. He asked her father if she had possibly returned and he shook his head stating he had not seen her. At this point, Bezgod worriedly began to search for his wife.
2 YEARS LATER:
A man sat at the bar of the Drunken Wench, smelling of alcohol. A man who appeared to be one who had lost everything from a bad bet at the Gold Saucer, this man was Bezgod. Two years of traveling the land and asking anyone who might have a clue on the details of his missing wife. As he took an old, folded, and beaten picture of his wife out of his vest pocket a hand tapped him on the shoulder. As Bezgod drunkenly turned in his stool nearly toppling over, a strange man stood before him, “Are you, Bezgod Pickett? The man searching for his wife?” This wording took a bit to process through his drunkenness and as soon as he understood the man’s words, Bezgod’s eyes grew and his flame of hope lit again. He stumbled as he tried to stand from his stool, his hand took the other man’s hand and he shook it vigorously, “Do you know where my wife is? Is she okay? Can you tell me where she is?!” The questions poured from his mouth as the hope of knowing his wife’s whereabouts helped him sober up. The mysterious man stopped him by holding up a hand, “Let us talk at a table, you may want to be seated and on a chair with a back.” The man began to walk over to an empty table as a lump in Bezgod’s throat appeared and Bezgod clasped his mug walked before walking towards the table, grabbing a chair, pulling it aside and sitting down. The man across from him looked concerned and deep in thought of how he should word the news. The man let out a sigh, “First let me introduce myself. I’m Lloire and I did not know your wife directly but through someone else. I will explain.” So many questions were going through Bezgod’s head, but he refrained from asking as he waited for the explanation from this man named Lloire.
“Your wife was apparently a friend to someone I know, who…” Lloire paused for a bit as he tried to think of how to explain, “Who also practiced in magick. I do not know what happened as I wasn’t there, I was called to save them ….from the void.” Lloire looked up at this time to notice the confusion on Bezgod’s baffled face before continuing, “I was only able to save one of them before the void rift swallowed closed. I’m sorry…I couldn’t do anything, but I could not save your wife.” Bezgod’s face showed rage as his eyes teared up, he took his mug and threw it across the tavern, as it hit a stone wall and fell to the floor. The other patrons turned to see the commotion as Bezgod sat back in his seat, burying his face into his hands and letting out a scream of sadness. Lloire stood up, “I’m sorry for your loss, I pray that she found peace.” He said before turning to leave the tavern himself. Bezgod just sat there the crying mess of a broken man.
A FEW WEEKS LATER:
After finding out the news of his missing wife, Bezgod spent most of his time at the Drowning Wench, burying himself in guilt and alcohol. A strong hand smacked his back as a Roegadyn sat down beside him, “Ye don’t look so good mate, I think ye better slow down on dem drinks.” The Roe gave a hearty laugh and smacked Bezgod’s back again causing him to jerk forward. Bezgod glared at the Roe in an alcoholic look, “I-sh thinksh you needsh to leave me alone. You don’t know me…yoush don’t know the shit I’ve been through.” Bezgod pointed a drunken finger at the Roe. The Roe scratched his chin with a thumb and forefinger, “Hmm, I think I can guess…I’ve seen enough drunken people to know their problems just by looking at them.” The Roes eyes darted over Bezgod in a Sherlock Holmes fashion as he gave another ‘Hmm’ before smiling and speaking out, “A man should only drink for two reasons, celebration, and happiness. I can see ye are drinking because of a woman…and it isn’t a break up either.” The Roe pointed at Bezgod’s wedding band, “A break up would mean ye’d toss that away, no this is a loss and yer drinking because ye think it’s yer fault huh?” Bezgod stayed silent, “Hit the nail on de head I did eh?” The Roe smiled before it turned into a frown, “Ye don’t need to give me detail and I won’t ask, but guilt drink’n isn’t good for a man.” The Roe shakes his head, “If ye want to not feel guilty, then do something to prevent whatever happened from happening to others, aye? Help those so they don’t have to go through what you did.” The Roe smacked Bezgod’s back again, gentler and lighter this time as he stood up with his mug in hand and walked off. Bezgod thought about what the Roe said for a good while before turning in his stool looking for the Roe, only to see he was nowhere in sight.
PRESENT DAY:
Bezgod stood out front of his home in The Mist, a bag slung over his shoulder as his eyes gazed upon the small cottage. The cottage had been emptied, the yard clean of decorations, the garden desolate of any kind of plant life. Old memories of Aerea flooded his thoughts as he took one last walk through his old home, touching walls where pictures and bookshelves full of books hung, the memories made him feel as if Aerea was there with him. His eyes watered, as he made his way outside, closing the door behind him as he pulled a small bouquet of lavender flowers out of his coat and placed them on the ground in front of the door. “May you find peace, my love.” He whispered weakly kissing two of his fingers and placing them against the door frame, he then readjusted the bag over his shoulder, turned and walked away, never looking back.
Bringing back the Dragonriders of Eld: Findings in my Research So Far
My research into furthering our orders livelihood and breathing a fresh new age into our age old order is going increasingly well! It involves participation of not just our own dragoon but our dravanian allies as well.
This involves a aetherical link between, a bond of sorts that ties the draconic essence that lies within the soulstone of each dragoon to the blood of the dragon that the rider will be mounting, a extremist and downright heretical claim in regards to our age old traditions, to a now progressive nation a risk that perhaps could be worth the reward.
It has been proven that our newfound allies are capable of halting, nay helping the victim control the tempering of the dragonblood and win over its influence, and it is this in itself which I wish to test on a new level. Upon drinking the blood in itself the user is subject to vast pain and anguish, with only the stronger willed of us being able to hold the influence back for longer before turning into the dragon. It is in this where our solution lies however, as I feel if the blood consumed is that of the dragon they shall ride, and that very same dragons roar can calm the influence of the darker calling, it can tame and halt the process leaving the user in a state of limbo.
With the help of our soulstones and the aforementioned blood, we are able to then establish a link to the dragon with the help of passing aether between one another, a bond where we can share ones thoughts, feelings and possibly other sensations to our draconic allies, a bond I too have established and succeeded with a dragonet I have come to train and together we have become increasingly combat efficient together in the bond that we share as our combat strategies and thoughts become more in sync with one another.
A Dragoon of Ishgard should represent the qualities of all of its denizens, an elite force of both man and dragon, and as my research carries on and I am able to present my findings in this journal publically, I do feel we can progress our order to a further and higher calling to better represent our great nation in the coming battles.
I am now heading a new venture in vons roleplay storyline with the crimson Iris tavern FC! a lovely group of people and a good place for darker roleplayers to converse, we have tavern nights on tuesdays at 7pm EST and our tumblr has just started! look here to see!
❖ Name: Min (Prefered name)/Y’min Diari (Full name)
❖ Age: 22 (14th Sun of First Umbral Moon)
❖ Zodiac sign: Menphina
❖ One good trait: Always cheerful and happy to sing a song
❖ One bad trait: Always tries to hide her true feelings behind a smile
Habits:
❖ One bad habit: The Minquisition.
❖ One good habit: The Minquisition. I know its the same answer, but its both good and bad
❖ One habit they can’t break: Nicknames. Everybody needs one.
❖ One they’ve broken: She won’t admit it, but she hasn’t travelled as much as she used to.
❖ What they’re afraid of: Settling or losing a friend.
Family:
❖ Their parents’ names: Diari Nunh (Father) Y’Nozra Whex (Mother)
❖ Their siblings’ names: None that she know’s off. At least those that came from her mother.
❖ Favorite childhood memory: Meeting the Bard Marc for the first time, and being taught how to play. This was at age fourteen.
❖ Favorite childhood toy: A small poorly made chocobo plush, which was decorated with various bird feathers that she found. She stuck them in the plushes head so it had a headdress.
❖ Embarrassing story: There are a few, but some are more sexual. However, the most embarrassing story is playing the wrong key to a song while performing. I’m sure the musicians would understand.
❖ Favorite family member: Although she never mentions family often, she does have some fond memories of her mother.
❖ A story about that family member: The last memory Min recalls about her mother was an arguement.
What they prefer:
❖ Coffee or tea? Doesn’t like either.
❖ Showering in the day or night? No preference.
❖ Taking baths or taking showers? Bath. Soothing, and easier to have fun in.
❖ Tv or movies? N/A.
❖ Writing or reading? Both. She loves reading stories about hero’s and their adventures. Although she does not write stories, she does write songs. So its close enough.
❖ Platonic or romantic love? Platonic probably. She doesn’t think anybody would want to love her.
❖ Iced tea or lemonade? Lemonade.
❖ Ice cream or smoothies? Smoothies.
❖ Cupcakes or cake? No preference.
❖ Beach or mountains? Both. Still would like to go for a swim one day.
BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.
ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.
The dark. Fire. Open water. Deep water. Being alone. Crowded spaces. Confined spaces. Change. Failure. War. Loss of control. Powerlessness. Prison. Blood. Drowning. Suffocation. Public speaking. Natural animals. The supernatural. Heights. Death. Dying. Intimacy. Rejection. Abandonment. Loss. The unknown. The future. Not being good enough. Scary stories. Speaking to new people. Poverty. Loud noises. Being touched.
