Kyatai

Character screenshot(s):

:surprise: S'Demyx...!!!! .... what a good idea! Hope to meet up with you IG soon. Seems we always tend to miss eachother in the chat... /damn work

If you got Collectors... will you get your Collector goodies at launch? Looks like my code confirmed only the Cait Sith and Moogle cap... *mutters* I want my Coeurl mount, dammit. Tired of running around or bouncing from chocobo to chocobo!:chocobo::dodgy::roll:

haha great job... I look forward to more... more.. MORREEE! *coughs* 8-)

Not to put Yssen out there..... But he's created a LS (the Wanderer's Shadows) that seems to be right in line with what we might need here....

:love: Beautiful job! :love:

Love it! (Mainly asked because it is such a unique, cute nom d'plume. )

:love::love::love::love::love::love: Do Just Do Anime? I've Heard Of Incredible Painter Named Akane As well.

((awww thank you! :blush: I look forward to RPing Chiane with Izzy!))

I know artists are super critical of their own work- but I can tell you: this is great. I can't wait to see more!:love:

hahaha... should be fun!

Chiané was shocked to find herself alive. She lay half in and half out of the lake, the air around her still and dark. She could still smell disturbed earth and guano, ozone and water. She fumbled to get her bearings- but it was no use. The entire landscape of the cave was changed. She followed the remains of the room around, stumbling over corpses, murmuring apologies and prayers, and trying to find an exit. There was none. She was trapped. She closed her eyes, then opened them, her attention focused on the lake. The water had to enter from somewhere... she recalled feeling currents brush her skin, the edge lapping gently onto the rocks... And something had pushed her out from the small air pocket chamber and back to the surface. She didn't remember anything past the encroaching black, the churning nausea and immense pain. She had never expected to surface. Yet here she was. She sat down, resting her head between her knees as another surge of dizziness and nausea washed over her. Her right upper arm felt odd, heavy and swollen. She grimaced, placing her hand on it as she recalled the sword slash- The let out a disgusted cry to feel several elongated, soft pulsing masses attached to the site. She tried to knock them off, fighting another round of nausea, but they were latched on. She put her head back between her knees, taking in deep breaths. She knew the leeches would fall off as soon as they got their fill... and their mere presence told her the river did in fact lead out... But that was the limit to her thankfulness. Chiané felt the first one fall off within a few minutes, followed pretty quickly by the others. Her arm wept tendrils of blood and felt strangely tingly, but other than that, seemed in good order. She quickly felt around for more creatures that cared to feed off her, then let out a sigh of relief finding no more. After a quick bandage over the deep incision on her arm and shallow on her palm, she groped for her hip pack, feeling blindly inside for the few bits of tech she'd salvaged from Petyr's home before... She pressed her palm to her eyes, feeling the strange disorientation and burning pain in her chest again. Before... She sniffed, shaking it off as she slipped the aerobreather on to rest against her teeth, then dove in to the water. It was dark, murky with the dust and dirt... and blood. Lifeless bodies drifted past, arms and legs stroking her in their final caress. She pushed them aside, refusing to acknowledge who- or what- they were. She could not... not now. She would grieve later. Speak words over them later. The cave would be their eternal cairn. She dove deeper, her breathing slow and even as the aerobreather broke the chemical bonds and changed the cool water into cool, if somewhat stale, air. She felt for the edges of the underwater cavern and tunnel, following the gentle urging of the current toward its source. After what seemed to be hours, she sensed a light, then more light. She fumbled, waving her hands forward into the murkiness, following the light now. Several minutes later, she found the source... a small crevasse in the wall that was barely as big as her head. She began grabbing and pulling at the rocks, seeking loose ones and kicking and hitting others to loosen them. Slowly but surely, the light grew and she managed to open the hole up just enough to wiggle through. When she emerged, she was bloody, ragged and totally disoriented. She wasn't certain where the underground river had dropped her off- but she had to believe it was somewhere along the Velodyna. But nothing in the landscape looked anywhere close to familiar. Chiané pulled the aerobreather out and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, peering up at the sky. The red giant was... gone... But the sky was a murky red-brown that shimmered oddly as the sun tried to shine through it. She took a step forward, scanning the landscape for any sign of life. There was no one. Nothing. Not even a bird singing or the whine of insects. Just water burbling over rocks, wind whipping through the trees... and a low, unearthly, throbbing that seemed to be heard in her bones as well as the lower frequency of discernible sound. Nothing. All that seemed left in the world was just one lone, barefoot Duskwright standing in dripping rags along the side of a rushing river. [align=center]***{And thus ends the prestory}***[/align] Hope those that read enjoyed, OOC comments/criticisms are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

that looks incredible! Props to Nova!!!!

Chiané gazed at the Six, her back straight and face impassive. She still wore the dark Garlean-cut robes, but she had pushed the hood back from her face. From beneath the long sleeves, her fists were clenched in an effort to be patient and show the proper respect. Problem was- they weren't listening. "So.." the youngest Tutélaire peered at her from just above his small round spectacles. "Let's review this again..." "Why?" she murmured. His ear twitched and his brow furrowed. "Why? Because we need to get to the root of this... this..." He looked around for support. Her grandfather sighed and rolled his eyes. "I have already told you." She shifted her gaze to the Châtelain, ducking her head slightly. "The surface-dweller issue is our issue as well. If a great moon strikes-" The Elder laughed, causing her to shoot a glare back at him. "Truly child, a moon?!" "Yes, a moon. Dalamud." She turned back to the Châtelain, ignoring the sniggering and derisive remarks whispered behind her amongst several of the Tutélaire. "The might of the Garlean Empire is profound. You know this..." She looked back at them, immediately silencing the words, though the mocking grins remained. "You all know this- it is what brought us here." She paused. "But what you fail to understand is- the Empire that you knew, less than a decade ago... is not the same Empire anymore. It is larger, stronger... and so much more powerful than you can possibly imagine..." "She only seeks to frighten us! My lord, please... She is just a woman-child- and likely a spy. You have all heard the stories..." his tone was infuriatingly condescending. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out. She didn't even look at the one who'd spoken. Denying, or even acknowledging the accusation would be pointless. They had already beat that dead chocobo past the point of resurrection. "The fall of Dalamud was the catalyst that finally gave me my freedom. Why would I be let go, to find my Clan again... to- to try and warn you... or at least to have a chance to say good bye?" "Why would you indeed, young one," a gravely voiced Tutélaire spoke up, his yellow eyes peering at her. "Why would any surfacer give a damn about a Duskwright girl- especially an Ala Mhigan...?" "My... my... Petyr. Petyr helped me and... 'owned' me in the eyes of the government..." she grimaced, rushing on while trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. She shook her head, gesturing quickly. "But... it was a deception. He was... Was one of the Resistance. He did not want to see me trapped there if he were to fail. Did not want to see me conditioned and forced to serv-" He raised his eyebrow, interrupting. "This Petyr... was not of the Blood?" She met his gaze. "He was a Hyur. From the Highlands of Gyr Albania, though he was born in Ala Mhigo around forty years ago. And surfacer or not- he kept me safe and treated me as if I were his blood." "Hmph." She turned back to the Châtelain. "The moon is not a terror tale. It is real and it is coming. All you have to do is leave the Tunnels and look up. Ask the chasseiur! They have to have noticed the red moon." One of the Council frowned, looking slightly uneasy. "I have heard speak of a red star..." "Oui! But it is no star- it is a moon. Ask the Advocat- surely they have been tracking its approach?" She looked to each of their faces. "Hmph. Many Eras have spoke of close flying stars and moons, yet they did not spell destruction of Hydaelyn," a shrewd eyed Tutélaire lifted his fingers in dismissal. She was losing her patience. "Do you not think... If it worries the Garleans, should it also worry us?" "Why should it? We are deep within Hydaelyn... The problems of the surface-" She let out a tight sigh, interrupting him. "For the sake of the Twelve and all their spawnings! It is a MOON! Not some Ixal that forgot he can't fly. Not some airship out of Aether. Not a hundred of them all together!" "Chiané!" She looked quickly at her grandfather, his face tight and eyes dark. But she just turned back to the Châtelain, her cheeks nevertheless flushed at her outburst. "Forgive my disrespect... but if a moon should strike us, no one- not for malms and malms away and beneath the blast will be safe." She paused, shaking her head slightly, her voice soft and somewhat pleading. "Surely you understand this?" His stone grey eyes bored back into green ones, unblinking as he held her gaze. "It is fortunate you have returned..." he murmured in a deep voice. "Just in time to tell us of this impending catastrophe..." Chiané felt a slight tingle race up her spine, a slight shift and awareness that set her heart to suddenly pick up its pace. She blinked, frowning as she broke his gaze uncertainly, her brow furrowed as she looked to each of the Elders, then finally the Oracle. "Dreamer..." she whispered. "What do you see?" The woman gazed at her with her clear pale blue eyes, then closed them. "Death. Suffering. Fire and destruction. Calamity- abated. Brilliant light." She looked back at Chiané. "Your face." She jerked, her brow furrowed as she took a step back. "What?" The Tutélaire all stared at her. The Châtelain slowly rose. The Guerriére at the corners of the room began moving toward her. "No! I came to warn-" "Seize her." The command from the Châtelain was low, soft, but had the impact of a thunderclap. She spun and darted toward the exit. Hands grabbed at her, but she twisted and evaded. Tears threatened to blind her. Faces she'd once known, loved and trusted blurred into smears of color. She felt hands grab her again, and this time, her feet were likewise swept from under her and she fell face down on the smooth rock floor. "Bring her." She was hauled up again and drug before the Châtelain before being pushed back to her knees. "I'm not a spy... I'm true to the Clan! I swear it before Nymeria and Rhalgr and the entire Pantheon of Twelve." She grit her teeth, glaring up at them in furious frustration. She sighed, shaking her head once, her voice softening slightly. "I... I just want to find my father... and I want to come home..." She closed her eyes. "Please." She heard the whine of the blade as it was unsheathed, felt the whisper of coolness as it was placed into position. "Chiané Arielle N'Ardenté, daught-" "Naevioux." "What?" She opened her eyes, gazing up at him. "Naevioux." She stated, her tone dull and soft. "If you truly wish to remove the taint from the Clan, use the name I have lived under for the past five years." He narrowed his eyes. "You changed your name?" She swallowed, nodding once firmly. "The name N'Ardenté had not touched my lips since I left here those years ago, until I inquired of it two suns ago with an ally in the caves to the west." "Not even to your 'friend' Petyr?" "No. He knew me as Chiané Naevioux." She placed her palms on her thighs, kneeling before him as she studied his face, completely ignoring the Guerriére positioned at her side. "I left here a foolish child. I survived the best way I could. I returned to the Clan as soon as I was able. I offer my skills.. and my knowledge of the enemy..." She paused, then looked to her grandfather. "I have neither betrayed nor forgotten who I am." She looked back at the Châtelain. "So, I die with my honor intact." She reached up, grabbing the blade. "And if my Clan knows me not anymore, I die honoring my own, and release them of the burden." The Conseil du Tutélaire gasped just as the earth started to rumble and shake, knocking bodies back and forth across the Chamber. The sudden instability caused the blade to shift and slice deeply across her hand, then upper arm, but Chiané ignored the pain as she leapt up, immediately running for her grandfather. "Gran'papá!" "Chiané?" His thin arms flailed, unable to locate her in the noise and confusion. She grabbed his arm. "Come with me- I'll get you safe." "No.." he brushed her hand off. "I am a blind old man, mo'chere. Save those you can. Save yourself..." "NO!" She grabbed both his arms, pulling him. "I'll not leave you!" He effortlessly knocked her arms off again, his voice low and firm. "Yes. You will. Survive this. Remember N'Ardenté, Chiané. Now go." She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her hands grasping at air. "Gran'papá.." But he didn't turn around, merely continued heading deeper down the tunnel until he was obscured in a cloud of dust and dirt. A hand grabbed at her- a small child of five with wide, terrified eyes. Then a young woman, bleeding from a cut on her head. A boy, dressed in the garb of an Enrôlé ... More... more... Passed her by, eyes full of confusion and horror. "Follow me!" she suddenly yelled, swung the child onto her hip and began moving quickly toward the passage leading to the surface. Her arm was beginning to throb painfully, her grip difficult to maintain on the child. She went to shift him to the other hip when another concussion rocked them. Great stones rained around her, screams of fear and suffering pierced past the deafening noise of a world falling apart. She spun around, trying to gain better footing as the child squirmed in terror... A moment later, she was picking herself up off the floor, her vision blurry. She rubbed her face, blinking to focus in the dusty air and staggered forward. The cave was full of crying, moans and an odd keening; the floor soaked with blood. She scrambled up, the child she'd carried nowhere to be found. Bodies half crushed and broken littered the room. Shifting shadows told her others lived and she rushed toward them- just as another blast knocked her off her feet and freed a deadly stalactite to come barreling toward her head. She rolled quickly, falling into the small, icy lake and was submerged. Dull thuds and splashes surrounded her, muffled but painful with their concussive frequencies as the cave began to crumble. She dove deeper searching for a small chamber with an air pocket, then closed her eyes and waited for the end.

It was another week before she saw her first Duskwright. She had begun traveling in the day, now that the city lay nearly twenty malms behind her and the threat was lessened. The mountains of Xephotal were rugged and harsh, the Ixal a constant threat, and many of the caves shallow and empty. She had been trying to recall where her Clan had established their home by keeping an eye on the Velodyna, but since she'd left as a child, and her drifting toward Ala Mhigo vague until encountering Petyr's Survey team, she had yet to find any landmarks. But the hunter might know. Or if not he, his Clan... She hung back, watching him. Trying to place him, wondering if she had once known him... He disappeared into the side of a rock and she darted forward to catch up- which ran her directly into a trap that caught her foot in a fine rope loop. She caught herself a moment before her face met the ground, the pack on her back shifting and knocking her center of gravity off-kilter. She let out a soft curse as she flipped over and began working the knot. "Only an idiot would try to follow a Duskwright into a cave." The tone was dry, rather annoyed and sarcastic. "What do you want?" She looked up at him, shoving the cloak's hood back as she matched him tone for tone. "To speak to your Elders." She got a brief flurry of amused satisfaction as he saw her face, recognizing her as a fellow Duskwright. "And I am no idiot." He flushed, looking away for a moment, then back at her. "Why?" "I am seeking information," she began as she resumed picking at the knot. He dropped down to assist her, his face clearly curious, urging her to continue. "About Clan N'Ardenté." He looked at her quickly, his gaze even more curious. "The N'Ardenté?" She nodded, slipping her ankle out as the knot loosened, her eyes on him. "You know of them?" He frowned, nodding once. "Further West. Keep the mountains to right and then straight ahead..." He hesitated, looking over her dark, but well made, and distinctly un-Elezen attire, then continued. "Why do you want to find them?" "It's personal." He paused, a look of wariness stealing over his angular features. She sighed, angling her head to the side. "They are allies." She smiled a bit, considering him. "Blood is thicker than gil or water, hm?" He eased a bit, nodding once as he considered her. "Nymeria watch over you then." Chiané nodded, knowing full well that before she had reached her Clan tunnels, a runner would have already reached them. She readjusted her pack as she rose, then moved to head west, but halted when the male caught her arm. She looked back at him curiously. "I... Are you the one... that went missing?" A tremor ran up her spine, then settled in her belly. "Missing?" He nodded, still studying her face. "A young female of the N'Ardenté disappeared several years ago. Several hunters followed her tracks to what had obviously been a Garlean spy camp- but her body was never found." She flushed, looking away, unexpectedly pleased and reassured that they had sought her and tried to bring her back. That she had not been written off as Rodrick had. "Yes," she said quietly, then gave him a faint smile. "Thank you." His face shifted to one of suspicion, his hand tightening on her upper arm. "So... you are?" She gazed at him, casually turning her arm out from his grip. "I am not a Garlean spy. I am N'Ardenté. I have always been N'Ardenté." His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion churning within. She paused, considering if she wished to speak further, then simply smiled and moved away, holding her hand up, palm out in farewell. "Nymeria watch over you and your Clan." Within half a malm, the landscape began shifting into shades of familiarity. The trees, slightly bigger, but recognizable. The rock face, slightly eroded, but still gave her a sense of 'home.' She found secret entrance in the Mouth easily and slipped inside. Heading down the twisting tunnel, the smells and sounds of her childhood began to rush back. Chiané stopped, resting back against the cave wall, her eyes pressed closed. For a moment, she was a child again and everything that had happened... was just a dark dream. The sound of movement ahead of her caused her eyes to spring open and her body to instinctively melt back into the shadows. She watched with wide eyes as an elderly Elezen walked past- and she belatedly realized he was her grandfather. He still wore the robes of the Tutélaire, but they were hanging heavily now on his frail frame. "Gran'papá?" He halted, blinking myopically in her direction. She could see now that his eyes were almost entirely whited out. "Chiané?" his wavering voice was uncertain, wary. "Oui, Papiere." He reached unerringly toward her, his long fingers touching her face, then began tracing her features. She watched as his dim eyes began to shine with tears. "Mo'chere..." She pressed his softly wrinkled hand against her cheek, smiling up at him. "Where is Papá?" "Gone." She stiffened, staring up at him. "Gone?" His rheumy eyes looked sad. "He set out to find you, but never returned." A cold chill ran down her back, her breath catching. "H-he's been gone since I-" "Non... he returned frequently early on, with hopes you would have returned. But... he has not returned for a year now." She frowned, her gut clenching and her hands shaking. "Gran'papá... what does the Dreamer say?" He was silent a long moment then sighed. "She said you lived. It is because of her, your father never stopped looking." "And of him?" He frowned. "I do not know." Her grandfather sighed, still tracing her features lightly, a faint smile on his lips. "You look like your mother, Chiané. She was a good woman. Strong. Like you." She frowned, uncertain about the change in subject. "I wish I had known her." The smile grew a bit more. "Your reflection speaks true. Come, hm?" He gave her cheek a parting pat, then gestured for her to follow. She did so, her brow creased with confusion and curiosity. Once in his private chambers, he took a seat and gestured for her to follow suit. She sat before him, still uncertain. "Your mother Tatania was a strong woman. A true wife to Gerárd in every way. She was killed when you were a bebé during the Massacre." He gazed at her. "Your papá was targeted too- but he managed to rejoin the Clan." He paused, gazing at her with his disconcerting eyes. "Though he was true to the Clan, your family lived among the surface-dwellers." She frowned. "We did? But-" He held up a hand. "Your father is a true Guerriére, Chiané. He sought the training of the Monks, so that he could train the Clan. He believed that one could never have enough martial training- but that some types were more suited to our lifestyle than others." She nodded mutely, simply listening as she thought back to her own training. Of the countless hours spent with staff, bare knuckles and feet, and fisticuffs. "But... When the soldiers came and began slaughtering and capturing the worshipers of Rhalgr, your father slipped away. He and Tatiana tried to make it to the Clan caves- but she was struck down by an arrow. It was by Nymenia's grace, Gerárd was carrying you in his arms when the archer found her." His brow creased in sadness. "We could not even make a cairn for her." He paused, then took in a deep breath, his voice growing a bit stronger. "We all elected to move north, deeper into the caves here, as many knew of your father- and that his Clan was somewhere nearby." He gave a tight smile. "The Ixal flocks nearby discourage the curious." His hand reached out, resting immediately on her knee. "But, he has been gone before. He will return..." She shook her head once. "If he went east, anywhere near Ala Mhigo, he will not return." Her grandfather blinked, then frowned. "Why do you say this?" "There is something happening. A great moon is approaching and the Garlean military is forming to head south. If Papá traveled east, he will be found." He paused. "How do you know this, Chiané?" She tossed her head once, looking away. "I have been a... Hm. I was taken to Ala Mhigo and kept there. I... was trained in some of their tech..." His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping slightly. "You assisted those that seek to obliterate us? Not merely surface-dwellers, but Garleans?!" "No!" She stiffened, grabbing his hand before he could pull it away. "I never worked on military equipment. I was merely an assistant to a Magitek engineer that focused on microtechnologies. I-" He pulled his hand away, his face dark. "Did... you... not hear what they have cost us, Chiané Arielle N'Ardenté?! Our blood... our home...?!" "I didn't know- and even if I had, I didn't have a choice, Gran'papá!" She leaned forward, her voice urgent. "Please... I did not betray us. I did not tell them who I was. I would die before I would put the Clan at risk." "But you chose them over us." His tone was deadly. She shook her head rapidly. "I did not. I chose to not be made an example of in death. To live and to learn a useful skill that could serve the Clan later. Just like Papá. You have to believe me. I am N'Ardenté." She paused, "But I was also a scared little girl who could not escape. I tried. Believe me... but their Magitek..." His face slackened, his eyes grew distant as he sighed. "I know of their Magitek, Chiané..." he whispered. "I have seen it with my own eyes- and though I am blind, I see it still. The blood, the carnage, the destruction it brought upon all that it touched..." She swallowed, gazing at him for a long moment, then whispered. "I have not betrayed us. If I had, do you think they would not have already come?" She hesitated, then reached out, taking his hand in hers. "Gran'papá... Is it not right to sacrifice Self before Clan, and value Blood before Water? To place one's Honor before Self and Life?" She squeezed his lax hand, her voice soft. "I did that to the best of my ability. T-Tell me what I must do to... to be forgiven?" His eyes slowly turned to her, his voice remaining soft. "Why did you leave?" She quickly dug into her pack, pulling out the slightly tarnished case holding the sundial. "I had to fix Papá's sundial." She placed it in the Elder's hand. He held it a moment, then let it drop to the ground with a dull clang that echoed throughout the small room. She jerked, as if to catch it, but his held her hand hard. "You sacrificed yourself... my son... for a trinket?" She frowned. "It was his most prized possession! I broke it and I was honor-bound to fix-" His grip was brutal. "Non. You were his most prized possession. He would gladly lose a hundred of relics of Rhalgr for one of you." She shuddered, but his grip did not abate. She tried to not wince or let her voice change, but she felt it go a bit higher, her breathing a bit more pained as she spoke again. "I... was... young and... foolish..." She leaned over her hand, grimacing as the bones of her hand ground against eachother. "I'm sorry, Gran'papá..." she managed, her voice nearly non-existent. "I... " He suddenly released her hand, his voice pained. "Be silent." She ducked her head, cradling her throbbing hand against her chest, slowly rocking back and forth. He did not make a sound for what seemed like hours, save his breathing. She felt his blind eyes on her, but didn't dare look up. He would hear and know it. And she couldn't bear to face him. "Mo'chere..." he began, and she let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she was holding. "Oui, Gran'Papá?" "... you were not much younger than Rodrick..." Her head shot up. "But he left because he disagreed-" "Be silent." She swallowed, ducking her head again. "You were not much younger than Rodrick when he left us." He lifted her chin with his fingertips. "But you have cost us much more. A daughter, a son, a skilled protector of the Clan- and another just as promising... " He smiled faintly. "Rodrick only cost us a blade and the hope of a child from you." She blinked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. "What?" He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, his tone matching. "You were to be married. His father and yours were... good friends. And he sought a seat on the Tutélaire. Such a union would bring both families together and gain him a bit more rank." She frowned, then shook her head. "I- did he know?" "The boy? No. It wasn't relevant to either of you at the time." He paused. "And now it is even less relevant." Chiané sucked in a deep breath. "You have not lost me. The Clan has not lost me, Gran'papá. A-And I will find Papá-" "No." He tightened his hand around the back of her neck. "No. You will not seek your father. If what you say is true, then... he will either return to us, or he will not. But... we will not lose you again." She bit back a small cry of relief. "S-so I am not to be sent away?" He paused, then sighed. "I cannot fault you for being a frightened child, mo'chere. But the Consiel du Tutélaire will still want to hear of it. And your travels... and of this moon that is falling upon us." He paused. "Then... we will convene and weigh your case." She closed her eyes, ducking her head. "Yes, Gran'papá."

hehehe But... but... I -like- them! Meanwhile... Twin! *waves* did you want us to sent in pictures for our Clan relatives for your genealogy? ALSO!!! Do you need any more info? Lastly... are we planning any kind of IC DW 'group' get-together to just... yanno... get to know those that we might be IC calling on for 'assistance' at some point in time, maybe?

Was the duskwright linkshell ever created in phase 4?

As of 2:30am CST. Hopefully all fixed for launch.

Oohh... my miqo is in Gridania!!! *pounces*

I recall that discussion as well, Eva. Might have even participated... I forget. Lol But seems there was a difference of opinion there: either dw's had really bad eyesight overall (I believe blind cave critters were referenced) or quite acute. My take is... Sensitivity. Like you and Izzy have mentioned. Photophobia- whether mild or severe... Would be logical. I did reference in my character story, how totally unaffected Chiané's grandfather is at being blind. Because of the acute hearing already lore confirmed, and the fact that when one loses a sense, the others become more acute. Anyway, great discussion!

Rawr! Double trouble! Lol

Oooh... Nice.... My seeker is nodding her approval.

Very nice! I love the eloquent imagery!:love:

Ok. Felix is hawt.

Rawr! Love the look on his face and the bared fangs!