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The midday sun glared down upon the bleached white sands of Wickerola's desert surroundings. The grains heated to the point of relaxing warmth beneath the feet of the barefooted occupants of the Dragon Master's paradise. Sand-constructed crystalline buildings loomed in the skies, due to the powers of pyrokinetics within the city utilizing their powers in order to heat the sands, forming glass from the abundant supplies of sand all around them. This was what made Wickerola a true paradise: Their ability to fix all with just a snap of their fingers, and sand.
The reforming of buildings, monuments, and everything else using sand in order to make more and more of a city as the townspeople grew in population. This allowed the city to make a name for itself, and allowed trade in the form of labor from its unique citizens in return for the food they needed to survive. The harmonious aura surrounding the confines was one unheard of in millenia. there was only one way to manually navigate into the city: A gate of which was always constantly on surveillance. The looming guards, with guns and swords in tow, were garbed in metallic armor fit with helmets, and possessed a few lessons of the pyrokinetic abilities they were born with.
All occupants of the city held the abilities of fire. whether the children of three years old, on to the ages of thousands of years under their belts. The Dragon Masters held capabilities to age liek that of specific dragons, maybe even longer. The record age of a dragon master's longevity had been estimated millenia ago at the age of 23,000 years. The cosmos were indeed good to the citizens of the confines of Wickerola, and they paid their deepest respects to their individual gods, the harmonious dragonic elements of flight, fire, and soul. The transformation of the city had begun instantly after the establishment of their site. The sands were perfect, the heat was wondrous, and not a war in sight. The city's founder, a young 7,500 year-old Darenko Carter had been warring for too long already. Newly wed to his lover Marissa for now almost 1,500 years, they had grown weary of watching the bodies fall. With one last conquest of the realm of Quazari, the warlord Darenko had taken it hostage and vacated the realm of its former population. In their stead, he had then allowed the place as a refuge for those of the dragonic race in any way, shape, or form and gave them the care which he had never received on the battlefield.
With the centuries passing, Marissa and Darenko had birthed two sons, twins. Both had been named with the first names of them being Giovanni. The last names were what differed the two. The first born of five minutes was to take the last name of Carter, for he would rule the kingdom of Wickerola when the father passed. And the younger was to take the last of Dragonamore. This had established the heirarchy of the two in form of king and protector. The younger ruled the army, and the older ruled the kingdom as a whole. This had been a form of fairness for the two, and they eventually agreed when the age came at 1,000. Darenko passed eventually as the age of 12,500, leaving Carter and Dragonamore alone, bereft, and grieving as Marissa passed 500 years before. Darenko had known in the last hundred years or so that his time was coming to an end, and so had begun to train the two in their dragonic arts.
What Darenko had not taught the two was their dragonic right and heritage as kings: The Wickerolan King Form. The black skinned, horned, winged, and terrifying secret which haunted the Carter Clan for so many long generations. Carter had inherited his upon his birth, and Drgaonmore with his father's passing. The two had eventually dabbled into the forms enough, with courage to help them in liquid form, and started to gain more and more control of the shift over the years to pass.
That was 2,525 years ago. The date: August 17th, 2013 A.D Their birthday.
"Carter, my lord.... What shall we do about the overpopulation of the city? Shall we use the builders to make more buildings and expand?" Dragonamore had spoken with a bow to his older brother, the king. Giovanni Edwindo Carter. The king of Wickerola. A kind, noble man with shoulder length platinum locks ot match his mother's, and emerald eyes to match his father. The better of him and his twin by just a pinch, he stood from his golden guilded throne with a smile to his brother.
"There is no need to bow before me, brother. You know this, as i've told you over and over." As Carter made his way into the sunlight just a few feet from his throne, the beams reflected off of the polished golden armor upon his torso. His legs seemed free of armor, but clothed with a pair of black leather pants, and his feet a pair of biker boots. Not too much gung-ho for the whole kingly outfit, Carter was prone to wear such. He made his way from the throne room and began to push open the massive and tall double doors. The palace of Wickerola was a beautiful sight, blowing the Taj Mahal out of the water with its dome-like roof above the center of the throne room and masterful artwork upon the walls. This magnificent piece of architecture had been crafted by their father personally within the last thousand years he had been alive. The final momento of his legacy to pass to his sons.
As Carter pushed open the doors, he glanced upon the sights of heaven itself. The astonishing gold and glass city of Wickerola. Years ahead of its time, the realm around them was not a wartorn one, allowing the city to advance more and more in solitude. A breathtaking sight form the hill upon which the palace had been built upon.
"Look about you, borther. We are at peace. And we grow. We will grow again." Was the king's proclamation as he turned to his brother and patted him upon the shoulder. A nod of his head for approval and Dragonamore was off to send the orders. Carter had remained upon the entryway of the palace, looking down the steps to see the distance. Hundreds down, it woudl be quite the unfortunate incident if someone were to fall. Well, except for Carter and Dragonamore whom could fly if they lost balance.
(I guess I can make this a jump-in, but idk if anyone would want to.
And I guess i'm open for feedback in PMs from it. All IC goes here, please.)
The reforming of buildings, monuments, and everything else using sand in order to make more and more of a city as the townspeople grew in population. This allowed the city to make a name for itself, and allowed trade in the form of labor from its unique citizens in return for the food they needed to survive. The harmonious aura surrounding the confines was one unheard of in millenia. there was only one way to manually navigate into the city: A gate of which was always constantly on surveillance. The looming guards, with guns and swords in tow, were garbed in metallic armor fit with helmets, and possessed a few lessons of the pyrokinetic abilities they were born with.
All occupants of the city held the abilities of fire. whether the children of three years old, on to the ages of thousands of years under their belts. The Dragon Masters held capabilities to age liek that of specific dragons, maybe even longer. The record age of a dragon master's longevity had been estimated millenia ago at the age of 23,000 years. The cosmos were indeed good to the citizens of the confines of Wickerola, and they paid their deepest respects to their individual gods, the harmonious dragonic elements of flight, fire, and soul. The transformation of the city had begun instantly after the establishment of their site. The sands were perfect, the heat was wondrous, and not a war in sight. The city's founder, a young 7,500 year-old Darenko Carter had been warring for too long already. Newly wed to his lover Marissa for now almost 1,500 years, they had grown weary of watching the bodies fall. With one last conquest of the realm of Quazari, the warlord Darenko had taken it hostage and vacated the realm of its former population. In their stead, he had then allowed the place as a refuge for those of the dragonic race in any way, shape, or form and gave them the care which he had never received on the battlefield.
With the centuries passing, Marissa and Darenko had birthed two sons, twins. Both had been named with the first names of them being Giovanni. The last names were what differed the two. The first born of five minutes was to take the last name of Carter, for he would rule the kingdom of Wickerola when the father passed. And the younger was to take the last of Dragonamore. This had established the heirarchy of the two in form of king and protector. The younger ruled the army, and the older ruled the kingdom as a whole. This had been a form of fairness for the two, and they eventually agreed when the age came at 1,000. Darenko passed eventually as the age of 12,500, leaving Carter and Dragonamore alone, bereft, and grieving as Marissa passed 500 years before. Darenko had known in the last hundred years or so that his time was coming to an end, and so had begun to train the two in their dragonic arts.
What Darenko had not taught the two was their dragonic right and heritage as kings: The Wickerolan King Form. The black skinned, horned, winged, and terrifying secret which haunted the Carter Clan for so many long generations. Carter had inherited his upon his birth, and Drgaonmore with his father's passing. The two had eventually dabbled into the forms enough, with courage to help them in liquid form, and started to gain more and more control of the shift over the years to pass.
That was 2,525 years ago. The date: August 17th, 2013 A.D Their birthday.
"Carter, my lord.... What shall we do about the overpopulation of the city? Shall we use the builders to make more buildings and expand?" Dragonamore had spoken with a bow to his older brother, the king. Giovanni Edwindo Carter. The king of Wickerola. A kind, noble man with shoulder length platinum locks ot match his mother's, and emerald eyes to match his father. The better of him and his twin by just a pinch, he stood from his golden guilded throne with a smile to his brother.
"There is no need to bow before me, brother. You know this, as i've told you over and over." As Carter made his way into the sunlight just a few feet from his throne, the beams reflected off of the polished golden armor upon his torso. His legs seemed free of armor, but clothed with a pair of black leather pants, and his feet a pair of biker boots. Not too much gung-ho for the whole kingly outfit, Carter was prone to wear such. He made his way from the throne room and began to push open the massive and tall double doors. The palace of Wickerola was a beautiful sight, blowing the Taj Mahal out of the water with its dome-like roof above the center of the throne room and masterful artwork upon the walls. This magnificent piece of architecture had been crafted by their father personally within the last thousand years he had been alive. The final momento of his legacy to pass to his sons.
As Carter pushed open the doors, he glanced upon the sights of heaven itself. The astonishing gold and glass city of Wickerola. Years ahead of its time, the realm around them was not a wartorn one, allowing the city to advance more and more in solitude. A breathtaking sight form the hill upon which the palace had been built upon.
"Look about you, borther. We are at peace. And we grow. We will grow again." Was the king's proclamation as he turned to his brother and patted him upon the shoulder. A nod of his head for approval and Dragonamore was off to send the orders. Carter had remained upon the entryway of the palace, looking down the steps to see the distance. Hundreds down, it woudl be quite the unfortunate incident if someone were to fall. Well, except for Carter and Dragonamore whom could fly if they lost balance.
(I guess I can make this a jump-in, but idk if anyone would want to.
And I guess i'm open for feedback in PMs from it. All IC goes here, please.)