Mercenary historians were a rare sight in any part of the world. But the lessons of Dragonhome rang true throughout the ages. The power of time stemmed into the lifeblood of the earth, forming the well of ages that maintained the history. Before the rise of dragons: the Shade: the Speaker: and even the beginning: the words sang the song of the world buried deep in the planet, for those with the ability to feel. Knowledge is power. Those lacking knowledge cannot survive in the world. Those lacking the scope of time cannot make sense of it.
Shiori knew, once she came of age, that something was quite horribly wrong with the world. The magnitude of the problem trembled beneath her feet on the clan trails. Family tales soon became riddled with inconsistencies. Traditional safe routes lay soaked in the bile of the ancients. And in the face of the star charts of the ancestral lines, the ground cried out in agony. The granite, pumice, and obsidian all burst in outrage as the lies proved too much. Her family, her home, and the life she once knew came rushing up to meet her, striking out the world in a dim white dot. Whatever time it was when she woke, there was nothing left to greet her but a crater of layers upon layers of overturned stone.
In the quest for knowledge she steadily lost control. She grew into exile, wandering the Shattered Plain for some time. Days and nights passed on the plain with no company but the stars, occasional dragons flying overhead, and the low rumbling of the ancient spirits of the earth. One day, the stones underfoot turned to a dull red slate. While she continued into the wastes and saw her magic waning in strength, the earth was relentless. The seismology was nothing like she'd ever felt. Yet on closer inspection, it appeared localized only to her-no one else seemed aware of this presence. Surely, that was a lead. Something in the heart of the planet wanted her here. So she followed the tremors, the imperceptible quakes, deep into the Contagion. Skulls and carcasses deterred most, as well as the fear of lethal disease. But she had to move on.
The apology for nearly crushing the destined partner underfoot wound up swallowed under the magnitude of strength pouring out in front of her. And the rage! As they talked, the world spun about in a flurry of blood, ash, and obsidian. Her magic roared and erupted into the air-the spike impaling several Serthis-and the one the earth destined her to meet simply smiled. Started talking as if nothing happened. As if they hadn't just murdered innocents. As if the herd of monsters weren't plainly terrorized by the sight.
No. This was not destiny. She'd never let this happen again.
- Her birthday is May 11th, 2017.