:::> 'Bout time I got this done. Feel free to use this as a "so I heard this rumor.." type thing in-game. I have posted this both here and on my website. The website version has pictures, but I'm posting it here as well in case black screen/blue text annoys anyone. Website version is here:http://draggystyle.com/literature/siivyra1.html <:::
[::Consciousness. What's going on? See only black, but hear things. Birds chirping, insects buzzing, distant gruok squeals. Smell.. water, foliage. And a dragon.::]
Siivyra Rythmortys opened her eyes. She realized that she was spawled out on the ground and stood up with slight difficulty. Everything felt stiff, and her head hurt something fierce, pounding as if it were fortress walls under heavy siege. She looked around dazedly, and concluded that she was in a jungle or forest of some sort. There looked to be a beach and a volcanic area bordering it.
[::Where -am- I? How did I get here? ...Why don't I remember anything before this?::]
"Hey!"
Instantly, Siivyra's body tensed; her scales bristled, her back arched, her claws spread, her teeth bared.
[::Creature. Behind. About five meters. Slightly smaller than self, but more powerful. Do not engage unless prepared for a loss.::]
The hatchling snapped out of the state just as quickly as she entered it, startled by the sudden flood of information. It had almost been as if something -else- had taken control of her senses; something with a lot of combat experience. Somehow, it felt unfamiliar and totally normal at the same time.
"Whoa, calm down," came the voice again.
Siivyra finally turned. The speaker was a hatchling dragon, indeed a bit smaller than herself. This was probably the same one she had smelled earlier. Another sense, this one truly alien, told her that his name was Spitfyre.
After her initial overly guarded demand of "What do you want?", the two started up a conversation. Spitfyre told her that she was one of the Gifted, a uniquely priveledged individual with the incredible Gift that allowed her to cheat death itself. He told her of the Ritual of Life Everlasting, of the Rites, and of the Withered Aegis. She asked of memory loss and received a less-than-comforting reply.
"Well.. you did have to die to get here. Memory loss can happen if it's a particularly traumatic death, but.. I don't think I've ever heard of complete amnesia before."
Afterwards, Spitfyre referred her on to Instructor Karkath and Artisan Jemenoth, trainers in the ways of combat and crafting. Siivyra took to the fighting well enough, but something about getting blood and fur all over her paws and under her claws just didn't feel right. She picked up the crafting incredibly well, even evoking a rare commendation by Jemenoth. She even asked for more training after he told her to return to Karkath. Jemenoth was chuckling at her enthusiasm when he told her that she would have to speak to another trainer for that.
Soon, Siivyra was moving on to the island of New Trismus, the grand gathering place of all the newly-discovered Gifted. The trainers here were a veritable wealth of information, teaching her of spellcraft, techniques, more advanced fighting tactics suitable for attacking undead, and more.
Each new piece of information felt more like rereading a favorite, but long unread book than learning anything new. Her new trainers could not completely hide their surprise at just how adept she was with everything even after just learning it. It was also here that she discovered offensive spells.
This was what she had been missing earlier. Why get bits of gore under your nails when you can shape the very elements into a destructive bolt to hurl at your enemies and prey? Why worry about having to rush to outdamage your foe when you can weave spells of recovery and outlast?
From the first Prime Bolt, Siivyra knew that this was what she was meant to be doing. There was something about the feeling of raw, undiluted power rippling through one's being that she found alluring, if not irresistable. Molding the primal energies by her own will and with her own claws, yes, surely this was part of who she was before.. before....
Before what?
How was it that she could remember her name, how to speak the common tongue, and enough of her apparent former skills to relearn them quickly, but no events whatsoever? How old was she? Who were her friends? For that matter, who were her parents? Did she -have- parents? Did she have a home, somewhere far from here, where her family was waiting for her? ..Or grieving for her?
As soon as that thought came to mind, some part of her, probably the same part that had all that uncanny combat knowledge, told her that she didn't. And for some reason, she felt sad, even though she couldn't remember what having a family was like, let alone if she had ever been part of one. The one clue she got was that this sorrow felt very much like pain of loss.
Then Siivyra rebelled against that feeling. If she can't remember it, why should she let it hurt her, of all things? Who needs family? Who needs friends? She could make her own way in this world if she had to, and no infuriatingly elusive memories were going to stop her.