Tydra

Broken Clay Pot Trinkets The chipped and broken surface of this pot belies its original craftsmanship. 25 Broken Clay Pot Trinkets The chipped and broken surface of this pot belies its original craftsmanship. 25 Broken Clay Pot Trinkets The chipped and broken surface of this pot belies its original craftsmanship. 25

Silvertongue Unlike the vast majority of the pack, Tydra is a social creature who enjoys making the acquaintance of strangers and striking up unlikely associations with dragons the length and breadth of Sornieth. As the head trader and caravan runner, Tydra is versed in a myriad of cultures and Flight customs, including those of the primary Beastclan races (though his allegiance to Outfit Vector wins him no friends there). By nature and training he is charming, persuasive, quick-witted, and empathetic (though rarely to the benefit of others) and is ideally suited to barter for the supplies Outfit Vector needs while selling their familiar stock for enough profit to fund the battle school. As a member of longstanding, Tydra's influence within OV is pervasive and far reaching, despite him not being associated with the power centers of leadership or the Inculcators. His political clout comes in the form of word-of-mouth alliances, favors done and owed, and his affable, unthreatening nature. He is not one to make enemies, but should an opponent arise, they are wined, dined, plied, and then crushed so thoroughly that they never arise to trouble him again. These occurrences are few and far between however. Tydra would much rather lead his clan mates with a silken strand of influence than grind them under heel. As the bulk of his time is spent outside the outfit, it's not surprising that his most important relationship accompanies him on the road. Gazket is his caravan guard captain and mate, a young mirror that Tydra has taken under his wing and to who's well-being he directs all of his non-professional attention. Perhaps he sees something of his own past in the difficult upbringing of the young guard, but if anything is clear it's that one threatens Gazket at their peril.

Mate Mentor Protégé ♬ Theme ♬ Burn Up The Road

History
Tydra was born to a nomad clan of Windwalkers, dragons who keep the secrets of the Windswept Plateau's hidden byways of land and air. He enjoyed a carefree childhood of travel and adventure, riding the winds with the rest of his clan using the mechanized wing supports provided for mirrors and other breeds anatomically ill-equipped for long distance flight. When he was barely out of hatchling-hood, still a child, he was selected to be the protégé of the clan's Currentfinder, a high honor visited on a single dragon only once a generation.

The Currentfinder is the most respected and revered member of the Windwalkers. They read the maps and chart the course, and keep the entire cultural history of the clan as unwritten long-form poems that they can recite on command. To become a Currentfinder requires a lifetime of dedication and study, but the first step is always the etching of the map.

As part of his initiation, Tydra undertook the eight days of etching; one day for each direction of the wind. The Currentfinder prepared pots of wind-ensorcelled pigment, and sat with Tydra in a meditative trance at the dawning of each new day. When the heat of the rising sun shifted the night currents into dawn breezes, he would begin to etch. To refuse the etching, or to break under the strain, was to fail, but Tydra endured the eight days in silence, until the entire map of the Twisting Crescendo's currents was inked into his skin.

He still could not read the map that had become a permanent part of his body; to do so required closely guarded wind magic that turned the ink to a living tempest of current, charted in the moment. But he was a living emodiment of his clan's heritage, as was the Currentfinder he studied beneath, and the pride he felt in that could not be paralleled.

He loved his teacher as a second father, and did everything he could to please him and earn the trust required to be taught the higher secrets. No demand was too much or too unreasonable, though he didn't understand everything he was asked to do. Over time his adoration turned to confusion, then wariness, and finally devastation. No one would listen to him, or believe him. His explanations were mistaken for the complaints of a chastised student. He was told to work harder, and do what he was told, and reminded of the honor he'd been given and the sacred trust that had been invested in him. Nobody understood it when he killed his teacher while he slept and ran. It was utter catastrophe, both Currentfinders gone, their history lost and their future at risk. They chased him into the Wandering Contagion, knowing only that they had to get him back at any cost or that their way of life would die. He fled from clan to clan and place to place, finding a temporary refuge until his family arrived, imminently reasonable, and explained what he'd done, so that he had to run again.

He did not flee to Outfit Vector, he was dragged there by a bemused border guard that found him unconscious in the wastes. He woke to the voices of his mother and a few other mirror family members, the only representatives of his clan allowed into the territory. It was too late, he was too weak to fight and they'd cornered him at last. He wouldn't let them take him back though. One way or another, they couldn't hold him forever. It was with that resolve that he faced the young, elegant mirror that approached his bedside. Ryiz did not sit, but regarded him for a moment before asking if he wanted to return to his family. He shook his head, no. And with a twist of her neck she left, and his family was forced out the door and then out of the territory, entreaties and curses flung out behind them.





"Well I traded for it, my dear." Tydra doffs the cavalier with a flourish and a bow. "If I recall correctly the transaction took place on an early circuit through Dragonhome. Dusty place, Dragonhome, and far from the inland sea. The snapper in question had never seen a Glamourtail before. I traded him a pretty specimen with violet fins and eyes the color of sapphires. The hat was thrown in as a token to settle an already lucrative deal."

The mirror smiles, white tongue flicking between white fangs. "Why do you ask, dearie? Perhaps you would like to make a deal as well?" He gestures to a small menagerie of familiars behind him. "Though, fair warning, it will cost you more than a hat..."