Valdrá Eingana

[Valdrá Eingana]

CHARACTER BASICS      

Character Name: Valdrá Eingana 
Alias/Nickname: Dream Weaver
Gender: Female
Race: Dragon/ Drow Humanoid
Age: 54
Faction: Civilian 
Level: 0 

Eye color: White
Hair color: Black
Appearance: Drow: A bit shorter than average, at 4ʼ10” she isnʼt exactly towering above most humanoids. Thin, and “breakable” as she refers to this particular form, the tattoos across her face are the only ones she cannot easily hide, though the rest across her body she makes a point of concealing. Often wearing clothes about two sizes too big, sheʼs particularly fond of sweaters and leggings, though has been known to don a dress if the occasion calls for it. Sheʼs fascinated by all that glitters and if she werenʼt so afraid of drawing unwanted attention, and if she could afford it, sheʼd be decked in silver always.

Dragon: As a dream dragon her top scales are a deep midnight blue, and her wings, the parts still left, resemble the night sky. The tattoo that begins on her head and spreads across her body is new, unwanted, but not unflattering, if youʼre into glowing dragons 15 feet long and six feet tall, that is.

Racial Detail: As a dragon Valdrá is able to shift form from dragon to drow as necessary, though rarely will an outsider see her do so, for reasons explained later. In dragon form sheʼs able to perform dream magic, fly, and communicate with others of her kind, as well as particularly open strangers, via telepathy. Telepathic connections with her own family and community could range for miles and singing or roaring while a dragon is an effective way to call for aid. She can sense when other dragon kind are near, just as they can sense her, and is capable of immediately seeing through another dragonʼs humanoid facade. While dream dragons are more fragile then some of their other elemental kin, as a dragon sheʼs still capable of taking significantly more physical damage than a human, and is much stronger in comparison. Aging is incredibly slow in comparison to the average humanʼs, regardless of what form she takes.  

As a drow, however, things are different. She is still a magical being by nature, but everything is…distorted. She is less herself. Barely physically stronger than a true born drow, she can neither fly in this form, nor communicate telepathically with anyone but her own dragon kind, and only those in close proximity. Magic is possible but at a significant cost. Dragon bodyʼs were built to channel their particular brand of magic. Valdráʼs drow form is not, and if she is not careful, it will break her.          

Personality: Valdrá is broken, but boy does she attempt to put on a good front. Reclusive and closed off, she would much prefer as not to have no contact with anyone. This manifests in a certain aloofness and a deep inability to trust. Yet this wasnʼt always the case, and often glimmers of her previous rebellious curiosity about what society outside of her Sonador Hoarde really entails shines through her suspicion. Having grown so removed from the outside world, she can be painfully naive, much to her own ire.

As a hatchling she almost immediately found herself flocking to her Hoarde historianʼs, fascinated by the records they kept, and the knowledge they held. That same search for understanding would be what led to her current misery, but that itch to know still remains, if currently buried. Not an angry or vindicate being by nature, she is not easily upset, and is level headed, if not a bit skittish. Raised with a rigid set of ideals and principles she can be unyielding in her sense of morality, though it may not necessarily be the same as the angelic run TCPD however. She can also be quite rash once sheʼs set her mind to some pursuit, but she is just a barely out of her teenage years, dragon wise, after all.  
 

History: Valdrá was the Eingana pairs third hatchling, and her mother Manasa could not have been more excited to have a daughter as soon as Valdrá emerged, even if she had broken out of her shell far too early, making her the tiniest hatchling of the Sonador Hoardeʼs brood that year. Her two elder brother 50 years (they were broodmates) consistently teased that Valdrá had been much too curious of all the commotion outside her shell to stay kept in so long, and that set the stage for what would be the next 26 years of her childhood years.

Always needing to be in the middle of it all, Valdrá seemed to always be under everyoneʼs claws, following her brothers like a shimmering shadow as they went about their daily affairs. Their father Tarasque was First, the Hoarde leader, and his two sons had effectively worked their way up the ranks in honour of the Eingana family name. Her brothers were meant to uphold their family pride, while Valdráʼs place was to hold her parents devotion, and as was custom, the family name. As had always been their Hoardeʼs way, Valdráʼs marriage would be “arranged”, and she would be sent to live within another Hoarde, taking her family name with her, and furthering their legacy. This did not bother her. It was simply how it was, and she accepted that it was what would become of her as well. If anything she looked forward to the change from the glimmering mountain home, consisting of enormous caves and trickling, icy waterfalls that had been all sheʼd ever known to something…new. Who she would be paired with was a secondary concern at best, as her pairing would be decide years after sheʼd moved into the new Hoarde, and a good match could be decided. As a youngling, it seemed so far away.

It was not until her 30ʼs that she attended her brother Dormirʼs Veiling ceremony. Until then, everyone within her safe and enclosed world had always been in full dragon form and it have never occurred to her, despite all her reading and spying on the Old Oneʼs nightly talks, that she, or anyone, could look or be anything else. Sure she had heard of the Great War, and smaller conflicts, referred to always in the past tense with something called Humans, but it seemed like a fascinating story at best. Conflicts among their own was dealt with in the usual way, honourable battle in the Ring, but this “war” sounded barbaric, and there were better more meaningful things to explore. Like why their floor glowed, or why no matter how hard she tried, the invocation sheʼd been practicing always seemed to backfire.

That night though, Dormir was given a vial of red to drink, that smelled of a tang sheʼd never come across before (she knew because sheʼd crept into the temple to investigate an hour earlier). It was an ancient magic but a magic she could see none the less, as Dormir changed from the scaly onyx giant heʼd been always, to a puny, what she was to learn later, High Elf man. Yet a shadow of his true self lingered, just out of focus.

It was a matter of security, she was to learn, that everyone was given a Veil, a new form to take, should catastrophe strike and their home be discovered, or worse. They were sending Dormir to a human city three days flight away, to get a sense of the political climate there, as rumors made their way of unrest starting to spill closer to their snowy mountain stronghold. Magama, their other brother, was meant to stay behind.

For ten years Dormir was going to be away. Long enough to incorporate himself into the city itself, and watch. Ten years was no time to a dragon, really, but for Magama who had done everything with this brother, and for Valdrá who missed her brother as much as she desired to question him for days about what it was like on the outside, it felt like forever.

It was 15 years before the entire community began to worry.

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The next five years were a stressful time for the Hoarde, with Dormir officially missing, and all efforts to find him unsuccessful, and Valdráʼs approaching Transition into her future mateʼs Hoarde. Her parents, as their position in the Hoarde demanded, kept their emotions, and their thoughts, to themselves.        

On her 51st hatch day, ten days before her flight to the Astra Hoarde, Valdrá slipped away. She couldnʼt leave this side of the hemisphere without at least trying to find her brother. With Magama sullen, and her parents attention diverted toward making preparations for her departure, it was surprisingly easy to fly off past the valley sheʼd always been relegated to, and dive down over the mountain peaks in the direction the map sheʼd studied two nights prior told her to head.

She flew into the city on the third night, tired yet elated at all there was to see beneath her, lights off the skyscraper nearly blinding her as she attempted to fly near enough to the ground to sense for her brother, while high enough to stay out of sight.

As always her curiosity got the better of her and the twinge she felt of her brother compelled her to fly too low. Which of course was what they wanted.

She was tangled in the net, wings pinned, before she knew what happened, roaring in surprise at the pain sheʼd never felt before seared through her scales, the net burning bright gold as she crashed into the skyscraper roof.

It had never occurred to her that she might be in danger as a dragon. Sure, her indomitable brother had disappeared, but certainly not because he was overpowered, but because…well sheʼd intentionally not considered why really. Not considered why the scouts her father had sent had come back empty handed. Not considered why those scouts had been sent in other forms, intentionally not as a dragon.

Now all those considerations and then some flashed through her mind as men who, by human standards were quite burly, swarmed her, one barely missing the jaws that she snapped toward them as they began dragging the net, and thus her, toward an open door. About to call for help, certain there must be other dragons in the city, her teeth crushed together as a huge weight clamped down across her jaws, followed by the tangy smell of magic and what felt like a nail being driven through her skull before it all went black.

————————————————————

There is something about seeing your brotherʼs head, mounted like a stuffed deer, that does something to a person. That was Valdráʼs life for the next three years, chained to near immobility, locked in a magic infused golden cage in the centre of a humanʼs penthouse. Atrocities sheʼd read about back home that had seemed so gruesome, but so removed, became daily life, as bits of her star-like glittered wings were sliced away and sold off, her tears, which would harden into stones similarly gathered and given out as party favours to wealthy benefactors of her capture. Dragon hunting had largely stopped, sheʼd read a decade before, due to her peopleʼs scarcity, and how closely they guarded the location of their homes. Or how flawlessly they hid in society. It took a dragon, to feel the presence of another, and her human tormenter had one. His son, a halfbreed, abandoned by his dragon mother as she was called back home, and disdained by his own father, his son used his dulled but still present magical abilities to help his father acquire what he wanted. Power.

In this city of humans, power meant money, and for the Man in White as sheʼd come to think of him, his clients were willing to pay for even just a viewing of a mythical beast like herself. So she was kept on display, slowly dissected, and sold, bit by bit, mouth muzzled shut, able to open just enough to eat. Unable to reach out telepathically for help, she felt more than saw the tattooed magic that burned against her flesh whenever she tried to call on any of her innate power, driving a nail through her brain. After awhile, the effort was not worth the pain, and she all but gave up.

Three years of torment, before the Man attempted to sell to someone he should not have. While humanʼs were largely useless at magic, the Manʼs clients were not always of the human variety. Still a scandal were anyone to find out, but money was money, and the drow had insisted they could pay.

With gaping holes in her wings, and no more tears to shed, Valdrá was a sight of a different sort these days. Even some of the Manʼs more unscrupulous clients had seemed a bit put off about how miserable she appeared, the fight sheʼd thrown the first two years all but burnt out. Trying to bite anyone, just so she could change form and have a fighting chance of escaping. He had threatened her more than once that heʼd be killing her off soon, selling off parts of her body to anyone who would buy them.

Perhaps the drow in question felt that same sort of pity. Perhaps they had no intention of helping at all until they say how listless her eyes appeared, as if she was nearly dead already. Her previous intention did not really matter. All that mattered was what she did as soon as the Man stepped out of the room.

“Who made you the way that you are?” The woman whispered, running toward her cage in a manner spoilt children had done to then immediately tug at her scales. Instead the woman stared at her, as if expecting an answer. Valdrá did not answer.

After a moment the woman merely shook her head. “Open your mouth.” She commanded, still quietly, but firmly. Valdrá blinked.

“Open your mouth, you fool, unless you would prefer to spend the rest of your immeasurably long days here,” the woman continued, not needing to turn to see the head Valdráʼs eyes flashed toward.

Yet still, she paused, uncertain, before doing as sheʼd been told. Without hesitation the woman plunged her hand into Valdráʼs mouth, slicing her palm on teeth still razor sharp.

Immediately, Valdrá changed, yet the drow whose name she never caught was already a ghost, having ran toward the door before Valdrá had time to think. An angry shout propelled her into her own movement, as chains suddenly far too big, and bars too wide apart to hold her slipped away, and she was sprinting, naked down the stairs.

She was pursued she was certain, though after a time, she heard them fade off. Probably certain that a naked, exhausted, and hurt drow wasnʼt exactly inconspicuous. Certain theyʼd catch her before she managed to make it across town.

Whether it was magic, or fate, or simply by chance that Valdrá managed to collapse outside a sympathetic humanʼs tenement doorstep was hard to say. But she did, and after sleeping for 17 hours, she was fed, clothed, and quickly told to make her way out of the city. Rumor had it, they said, of a city meant for her kind. A city much kinder than their own.

She knew, without shifting back, she would be unable to fly, and with the tattoo that still marked her, she would be unable to call for her kin even if she did manage to make it to her mountain valley. The magic that sustained her markings made it impossible for her to be herself, to be a dragon, yet it caused only mild discomfort to wield magic as a drow. To return home in this state, having failed her brother, failed her obligations to her Hoarde, and failed herself as a dragon would be dishonourable.

So it was with a mixture of shame, sorrow, and pigheadedness that she could find a way to be rid of at least some of her burden, that she took their advice and headed for Twin City.

                               

EQUIPMENT      

Weapon: Tier 0 dagger.

Job Items: Rope, Grappling hook, Lock Picks, Dagger, duffle bag, dreamstone.

Money: $25 

                               

TALENTS      

Athleticism: Rock Climbing
Skill: Escaping
Endurance: Tenacity
Charisma: Honest
Knowledge: Survival
Awareness: Intuitive
Combat: Battle Magic
Combat: Small Blades

                               

ACCOUNTS      

Your Alias: Iraluq
First Account: Valdrá Eingana
Second Account: N/A
Third Account: N/A

[Luna]

Welcome to Twin City, Valdrá Make yourself at home.