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Deltheor » Lair » Sydney
Level 4
Skydancer Male
Dec 26, 2017 (1 year)
Stats Growth
PrimaryObsidian Metallic
SecondaryCrimson Alloy
TertiaryCrimson Runes
Eye TypePlague Glowing
Energy: 47 / 50
Apparel & Skins

mindflaying conduit
narcissist • suave • decadent


Aesthetic: freshly pressed suit, haunting crimson eyes, wicked grins, ominous arching throne-room, foreboding will
Likes: easily targeted prey, filigreed knives, asserting dominance, hordes of cash
Dislikes: overtly kind people, giving up control, losing himself, being overlooked or ignored
The air crackled around him, alight with electricity, the acrid smell of charred earth permeating his nostrils. Ash and embers drifted on the wind, the thrumming static around him coming not from the dull clouds overhead, but from the burning Will of the dragons. Sydney's ability to sense and read the minds of others was always more acute than other Skydancers, but this? This was something else, the fiery spirits of the Ashfall Waste's inhabitants just adding to the burn he already felt, his quills standing on end with the intensity of it all.
It was delicious. He could get drunk on this sensation, the region was practically swimming in it.
Gods above, the difference between this and the Windswept Plateau was night and day. The dragons there were plentiful and energetic, sure, but damn were they boring. There was only so much carefree attitude he could deal with before he was ready to rip his feathers out. The Celadon Corsairs were good for a time, but even they were just like the rest. He glanced behind him, the towering cliffs of the Reedcleft Ascent just barely visible beyond the clouds.
His bejeweled claws dug into the soot beneath him, his maw gaping in a twisted snarl. That godforsaken spit of land loomed in the distance, anger bubbling up in his chest- he sought the sky pirate clan out due to their infamous reputation, but they were just a bunch of boring do-gooders in the end. Disgusting. Turning him away because his methods and interests were too inhumane? Really? Since when did pirates have morals?
They'd get what they deserved in the end- a front-row seat to his glorious ascension. He'd make sure of that.
Sydney took a deep breath in, reveling in the rich miasma of blood and fire, letting his senses soak in it like a luxurious bath. Reaching his mind out like a snaking web, he could sense the red-hot presence of the dragons working tirelessly in the Great Furnace, their ambitions burning a smoldering passion into him. Breaking them to his Will was going to be a blast.
First, he needed to gain their trust- establish some sort of rapport with the locals. Slowly worm his way into their minds, impart bits of his being into them, subsuming them until they were all but extensions of his Self. The Furnace was infamous for the metalworks it produced, having an iron grip over even a small part of it would amass him a small fortune. Then the real party could begin.
Spreading his wings, Sydney took flight on crimson feathers, taking care not to get any soot onto his pristine suit. The harshly lit mountain in front of him urged him forward, and a wicked grin split his face.
This was going to be fun.

My touch is black and poisonous
And nothing like my punch-drunk kiss
I know you need it
Do you feel it?
Drink the water, drink the wine

I'm the voice inside your head
You refuse to hear
I'm the face that you have to face
Mirroring your stare
I'm what's left
I'm what's right
I'm the enemy
I'm the hand that'll take you down
Bring you to your knees

Why don't you ring it, come and ring it
Come and ring my bell
Why don't you bring it, come and bring it
Come and bring me hell

The road I walk is paved in gold
To glorify my platinum soul
I am the closest thing to God
So worship me and never stop

Sycophants on velvet sofas
Lavish mansions, vintage wine
I am so much more than royal
Snatch your chain and mace your eyes
If it feels good, tastes good
It must be mine
Heroes always get remembered
But you know legends never die

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