- Hatchday: Jan 20, 2016
- Original clan: Wind
- Parents clans: Father - ice Coatl // Mother - water Coatl
- Came to clan: was born into it - left to wander around at a very young age, came back
- Mate: Tinuel
- Trading company:
Dalcenti - chief merchant / Kharis - treasurer / Fuchur - sales organizer/ Cadoc- jeweller
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"What we really want to do is what we are really meant to do.
When we do what we are meant to do, money comes to us, doors open for us, we feel useful, and the work we do feels like play to us.
... I'm this clans merchant and in charge of so many things, and I love my profession.
You know, happiness is not in the mere possession of money nor power. It lies in the joy of achievement, in the thrill of effort. In seeing, what you had worked so hard for finally paying off."
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Dalcenti is a middle aged dragon, who really loves to hear oneself talk. The Tundra was born into Clan Áidhear, its parents being travelers originating from the Southern Icefield and the Sea of a Thousand Currents who fell in love with the wind territory. During an ice day in January, their nest of two finally hatched—a bit late, resulting in everyone in the clan freaking out over these eggs. One can imagine the relief on the day Dalcenti and his brother Ferule came to life, healthy and very curious about the world.
Since both his parents were once travelers, it came by no surprise the young dragon was also quite founded about wandering around. Soon, he had left the clan, parents and brother to travel Sornieth and find his place in it. He was taken in by a merchant who taught Dalcenti every secret of the trade, smiting him into quite the salesdragon. During their travels, the Tundra was also able to establish contacts all over the different flights, creating an amazingly huge network.
The dragon loves to talk, turning him into quite the blabbermouth sometimes. As a merchant, he's fair and reliable. But he hates to see someone not putting effort in ones doings and tends to take control of a situation; it doesn't matter if he's asked for his assistance, he just tends to gatecrash the meeting. His friendly and open nature rescued him more times he can count! But one can recognize one time immediately: Dalcenti loves his profession; and he's quite good at it.
Years later, Dalcenti returned to his home clan and became its chief merchant, incorporating his very own Trading Company and looking after the internal and external commercial activities. Kharis is working as his treasurer. She looks over the finances, maintaining and increasing it. She would also keep Dalcenti in check so he wouldn’t jump to every sweet offer there is. The blind Spiral Fuchur joined them as manager and sales organizer; being a great asset to the team. Lastly, they were joined by the jeweller Cadoc, who knows about everything concerning jewels and gems.
While Kharis and Dalcenti love working together, they have no romantic feelings for one another. The Tundra already found his better half, the artist Tinuel; a lovely midnight-colored Fae. Another asset to their team would be the Renegade Aviar named Vykos. Dalcenti encountered him on this vast travels around Sornieth and became good friends with.
His current project is to include the Harpy Beastclan, living near the clans settlement into Clan Áidhear. They are currently employed at the parcel service of the Training Company and run errands for Dalcenti.
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~An eventful day~ Part 1 of 2
Dalcenti lowered his roughened, sooty-black paw from his face and looked at the saddened Harpy with all the warmth he could muster. It wasn't her fault, after all. She'd just... lost balance.
"I'm sorry," she repeated mournfully. "I didn't mean to--"
"I know, it's okay," Dalcenti interrupted. "Let me help you pick it all up."
At least that earned him a smile from the browning, silken-feathered Harpy before him. She was called Imani in her home-language, and it suited her rather well. She was small, sharp, faithful to the service and extremely honest for her kind. It wasn't often one found a Harpy like that. After all, Harpies were often associated among dragonkind with being extreme tricksters, taking their food and destroying crops that would've otherwise helped them raise money for their lair.
Dalcenti got as low as he could to the cold stone floor beneath him and started picking up the shattered pieces of blue-and-white porcelain vase. His lime-green eyes kept drifting over to the new Harpy employee; not because of distrust but because he knew that her pride had just been hurt. She was picking up some of the smaller pieces that his large paws wouldn't be able to grasp very well, while keeping her eyes locked on the floor. Shhe seemed extremely tense under his gaze gem-green gaze. The little Harpy could obviously sense when she was being watched.
"Hey," he said, having picked up the last of the larger, sharper pieces of the vase she'd dropped. "I hope you know that it's alright to make these kinds of mistakes. Just try not to be so wobbly next time, okay?"
"Okay, sir," Imani replied, her head still bent and her eyes lowered towards the floor.
"Here, go put these in the box over there." He nodded towards a spare wooden box in the corner of the work room. "Then you can get back to work and forget this all happened."
"Yes sir." With that, she wandered back to her station, but not before she dropped the pieces of vase into the box.
All Harpies worked at separate stations throughout the Trading Company; wrapping, sorting, bagging, delivering. A single, trustworthy dragon, dragoness or harpy was placed at each station to help the newer workers--such as Imani--and to stop any trouble rising throughout the Company. Dalcenti himself--even though he was the founder--had placed himself in the bagging section of the work stations. Admittedly, it was mostly so he could watch over Imani and her brother, Dekoda, as they were the newest. Some of his most trustworthy workers here at the Trading Company worked close by; other than one or two all have been working under Dalcenti’s command for years. Yet there were also some Harpies that had enough nerve to place other things in the deliverers' bags, and it was rather enraging for the deliverers and the couriers who head off down to the Trading Post on a weekly basis.
The bagging station, for what it was, was pretty clean. Four desks were sat facing towards each other in the center of the room, and the walls and floors were cleaned to near perfection by Dalcenti himself with large windows for watching the outside world go by when all of the work was done for the day. Each pearly-white desk had a harpy working at it, all of which he knew by name. Dekoda was sat next to his sister Imani to the left of the room, and Carel, Luis and Raybarn were sat at the others--all of which were dotted in random places down to being moved about repeatedly to limit the banter they played on their coworkers. There were four separate crates for the baggage done, and--ironically--Dekoda and Imani had done the most in the last couple of days, with Carel and Luis doing the least.
Raybarn was the oldest of their workers, with greying feathers that had lost their silken touch years ago. He'd been working for them since they first introduced the Harpy working project, and was currently an activist for employing the harpies. He had a troublesome side to him, often placing rather hideous-smelling flowers in Flynn's baggage to take to the Trading post, but that was the only trouble he really caused.
Carel and Luis--best friends since birth--were the most troublesome amongst the five Harpies in the room. They often played party tricks on the patterned Tundra and one of his friends; Fuchur. Neither of them took too kindly to it as both of the boys were adult Harpies now; they should be more focused on their pay than their tricks. Both harpies looked remarkably similar, too. They had a little white tuft of feathers on their chest and on their faces, making it look like their wearing a mask, and both had honeycomb-colored feathers on the rest of them, with short legs and dangerous talons on their toes.
Just as Dalcenti turned to look at the work the pair had done, a grey Spiral flung himself in through the door, panting and sweating. His apparel was all over the place, and his dim emerald-green eyes shone as he stared down at the floor, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it.
“Dalcenti,” he panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his paw. “It’s Cadoc. His paws are all cut up, his arms too. He’s in terrible pain. He can’t work for the rest of the week, if not longer.”
The grey-patterned Tundra sighed heavily before speaking again. “Take me to him,” he requested.
Fuchur nodded his head and lead the way, despite his blindness. That was one of the many clever things about the male; no matter where he was, he would always know the way, even if it was brand new to him. It’s like his Deity--the Gladekeeper--is watching over his every step.
The deep-grey Spiral, with his cowl hanging loosely and his Steampunk wings dishevelled by the speed at which he travelled, lead Dalcenti through the factory. They passed Tinuel, the Tundra’s mate, on the way. She worked part time in the Treasury with Kharis, both of them counting the income and the payout of the business, the profits and the losses.
His mate was a midnight-colored Fae who had the personality and knowledge of the Deities that ruled Sornieth. The amazing artist was often loud and playful with the Tundra, but when he and his friend passed her, she looked sad. More than that; she looked heavily depressed, which was rather unlike her. I guess someone’s told her about the news, he thought half-angrily as they moved their way down the corridor and into the Jeweller’s room.
The walls were plastered with different designs and information on different gemstones. Lapis Lazuli, Emerald, Diamond, Amethyst; all of the gems one could think of were on those walls. Flags holding the family Emblem of two gemstones with a brash, iron sword pointing skywards in the middle were fluttering in the soft, spring breeze outside of the company’s building through large, open windows that were shadowed by velvet, red curtains. The floor had multiple different shavings from the metals their friend used and had books of all sizes thrown across it like he was throwing them at someone.
The Skydancer himself was in the middle of the floor, his head being held by one of the company’s most loyal Harpy workers. She was stroking his snow-white face soothingly as bits of glass were being taken out by the physician Aztec; he was assisted by Kharis, who throw them into another crate in the corner of the room. All--physician, the Harpy and Kharis--looked extremely worried about Cadoc, but they still did what they could to help him.
“What happened?” Dalcenti asked urgently, trying to keep his anger at bay.
“A Harpy had run into the room with a bucket of shrapnel and thrown it at him,” Angel--the female holding Cadoc’s head on her lap--informed him. “I believe it was one of the Harpies under your command, sir.”
“But they were all there--” Dalcenti began.
“Not all of them.”
“Who are you suggesting?”
“The youngest one, sir,” Angel said sheepishly. “Dekoda.”
“But he’s just a boy--”
“While you were helping his sister--who genuinely is a good and honest worker--we believe he snuck out to grab the spare bucket of shrapnel and other parts from Cadoc’s spare room in the back of the building.”
“That rascal,” Dalcenti heard Fuchur growl under his breath, tapping his paw on the ground. The Tundra could almost feel the rage seeping off of him.
“I’ll go sort him out, you lot stay here.”
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“Dekoda!” Dalcenti yelled, his arms crossed and his tail swishing from side to side with anger. “Get out here!”
It took a few minutes before the little Harpy came wandering out of the bagging room, his head lowered and his brows furrowed.
“What— Why? Why did you go and hurt Codac like that?”, he stuttered as the Harpy neared him. He was just a boy, why would he ever do that?
Dekoda mumbled something under his breath, causing Dalcenti’s anger to worsen.
“Answer me!”
“Raybarn made me!” Dekoda yelled back, a snarl stretched across his face. “It was my fault. I made my sister stumble and fall, even though she didn’t deserve it! She would’ve never done that accidentally. But she didn’t deserve Codac’s look of disappointment he gave her when she fell.” The young one paused to take a deep breath. “Ray told me that I should get back at him for that. He told me where to find those pieces of shrapnel... It wasn't my sisters fault! I know my sister wouldn’t have even thought of it! I was all my faul...”
For once, Dalcenti was speechless. In all of his years working in this company, never had he ever heard that explanation.
“I’m sorry,” Dekoda whispered, his eyes lowered and glassy with the tears of a young one who knows he did wrong.
All the Tundra could do was sigh before Ray came out of the room and stalked over towards the young Harpy with fury lining his very figure. “How dare you! I told you to keep it quiet!”
“So you don’t deny it,” Dalcenti growled, causing the male bird-like creature to step backwards.
“No, of course not! I’ve been trying to get back at that half-witted jeweller for ages! Then I had my chance, so I took it. You wouldn’t fire me, anyway.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“No, you’re too soft-hearted.”
“Give me the apron.”
The oldest male wheezed quickly, staring at the Tundra’s lit-up green eyes. “Are you being serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dalcenti snapped. “Give me the apron. Now.”
Raybarn huffed, snatching the apron off of his body and throwing it at the Tundra, all the while glaring at Dekoda for telling the truth.
“Leave,” the usually soft-hearted male whispered viciously, pointing towards the large double doors at the entrance of the building.
“And don’t bother coming back.”
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Code by Chronicle (46437)
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