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+ S P E N C E R +




Traveler.   Magician.     Dragon Rider.     Swordsman.   Librarian.

H u m a n  //  E l f

A g e l e s s - U n k n o w n

H e / H i m  T h e y / T h e m

S p i r i t ?  D e c e a s e d .

N o  K i n  L e f t  - A m o n g  f r i e n d s .




You might be wondering how this could have happened… 

Spencer knows little of his origin. Date of birth. Where he was born. What grounds he walked upon in his youth. He knows not of his father, not the color of his mother's eyes. Even the man's own name comes as a mystery he woke up without. The one he bares presently was something ... given, after he found himself awake midst a plane of grass he did not recognize, all the same. What Spencer did remember, however, was a sensation. The coldness, as it had grasped hold of him. It felt as if falling into an utterly heavy, yet peaceful sleep... He knew little of what he was, let alone who. He started walking. There was nothing else that could be done. He had risen in a prairie-esque plane that seemed to spread onward no matter what direction his head would turn. Spencer walked until he reached a point of familiarity in the form of a small village some thirty kilometers from the place he had woken up within. The village came with hospitality, yet held very few hints. No answers.


“ To decipher it was one thing... Controlling it was another.  

For the early years, the world was an undoubtedly strange place. He recognized nothing of his surroundings or sense of self. He slowly came to the realization that he was capable of things beyond the average man whether he liked it or not. The capabilities, in the earlier times... lacked any direction or control. The occasional passing through objects was a problem that shook him not long since he had woken up. His form was corporeal, yet at times, only loosely. It was truly as if his body and soul wrestled to commit between a physical or spectral form without any indication of what kept them tethered. It would happen in a bout of panic, or the wrong twitch of a muscle. Often he couldn't recollect what seemed to cause the shift and changed his form to something far less physical and very much... ephemeral in nature. It would come over him like a cold mist, and left a tingling sensation throughout his nervous system. 


At first, it was just his fingertips. Then his wrists. Soon it was whole portions of his being that seemed to pass through its environment on a whim and leave him stricken with panic on how to make it stop, only to make matters worse. Spencer was stumbling straight through walls and phasing through objects on a whim during the early years of his newfound life, where the anomaly was creating more immediate questions than he had to start with. Among the strange symptoms, Spencer noticed how seldom he had felt exhaustion since he started waking. He walked for a few days from where he had started before he felt any urge to sleep, and hunger likewise. His body still felt the aches and pains of being alive, although it was as if it felt numb to what it truly meant. With every time he lost control of his form, the ends of his hair had quickly started to lose its color, spare a short length closest to the roots. These changes among others brought forth a rough transitional period where he struggled to have a grasp on anything around him. Eventually, these skills were to be trained with the right amount of mastery over the years.






She called it a gift, like it was something given to the world.  

Spencer had come to a point where he had lost all sense of what to do with his situation. Time dragged onward for longer than a lifetime, and he was faced with the realization of immortality that grew more evident as the number counted upward. He had traveled, he had remembered and forgotten countless names, and yet found no answers as to what had occurred. His nomadic life eventually took him South, across the seas and over mountains in pursuit of anyone that might offer information. His first encounter that could offer such things came from his passing through the bustling streets of Amsterdam in the early 1600s. He met a curious soul. The woman seemed to stare him down from a distance like she could sense just what he felt to be off about himself. She spoke questions and statements that felt like they were pulled straight from his head, and for the first time in his immortal life, he had answers.

“  You are a spirit, my dear boy. You are as real as this world around you, and yet this world does not own you. You will watch its trees rise and fall with each passing life. You shall experience beyond that of your fellow man. How will you use this gift? This curse? Will you choose to see it like so?  

Natalia was a practitioner of magic, and most adept in her craft. She was the person to shed light on Spencer's spectral dilemma, possible heritage, and one of the few that looked at him like his claims were not outright insanity. She introduced him to her studies and assisted him in utilizing the magic that had been gifted at birth and recessive in his veins all those years.
Spencer spent the next decade or so under her wing in Amsterdam, researching just what the nature of his origins might have been, and learning to utilize that magic for healing purposes when the world greatly needed it. When it came time to leave Amsterdam and continue on with his searching, he was promised a place in the city should he ever return, if he were to look for it. 

To this day, he isn't sure what she is, or where her knowledge she possesses has come from. Any questioning throughout the years was met with riddles or parables to send him in circles. In the seldom times he finds himself in the region, he is sure to make his visit to the woman who has changed as little as he has over the centuries. She remains a mentor, good friend, and the first one to confirm he wasn't crazy all along. Following his departure from the Netherlands, he resumed his traveling for the next century or so, using what he had been taught at each stopping point as he went.




I paused only for a moment to ponder what was asked of me.

Fate brought him into the Nightwing Empire where his nomadic life changed for the next several centuries. It was an accidental stumbling into where two-legged kind stepped foot merely on occasion and the territory seemed to span onward without an end. He soon came to learn that within it dwells dangerous creatures and beasts alike. Dragons commanded the air, with their dens settled within the mountains and deep within the chasms of its valleys. Warbeasts lingered within the darkest of the forested regions and the swamps of the neighboring lowlands. The region came not without conflict, whether it was between the beasts, or from the external influence of hunters, slayers, or militant forces alike. Although prone to friction, wartime, and hardly a peace-filled place, soon enough he called the mountains and trees of the regions as home. He fit in among the vast array of species with ease and called them as friends.nfdjSTz.png?profile=RESIZE_400x

When fate would throw him into shock once more, Spencer eventually found himself worthy of being chosen as a Rider to one of the larger dragons within the Nightwing Empire. Chanook was someone who quickly had become familiar. While he had grown to no longer fear the dragon, Spencer ultimately came to regard him with the utmost respect. Due to his physicality, the man was not readily affected by the high altitudes, nor the storms that Chanook brought forth in flight. His first flights were among the more interesting moments during this era, but soon enough he had learned to stay steady in the sky with ease. Spencer set himself forth to become an excellent Rider and swordsman. With the skills learned, and the harsh environment the territory offered, Nightwing shaped Spencer as a formidable fighter when he would need it, and a peacekeeper at his core when he did not.

All truly great things come at a risk of being lost.  

As the conflict would eventually come to pass, the territory now shows signs of its age and scars. The enemies have long departed. The hostile beasts settled their disputes, and all in all... with the conclusion of such hostile events, the territory was left with an odd amount of silence. The Empress came to rest at the bottom of one of Nightwing's lakes. Her second in command, Skya, rests in a shrine-like state deep in her mountain den. Spencer still watches over the late dragoness' horde of a library and doctors their pages in his passing time. Among the absences and tragedies, Spencer had been parted from his dragon for reasons that still remain unknown. He knows little of Chanook's whereabouts, nor his condition. While Riders generally feel sensations of their partner's wellbeing or status, he feels little other than emptiness when he attempts to reach out. His only hint is that the connection can still be felt, leading him to believe his dragon is out there. The thoughts weigh heavily on his mind to the point where Spencer has achingly resorted to trying not to think about it at all. He keeps his hopes up to see the dragon's return, just as long as the connection is still felt.


And so we march on.

Following the fall of Nightwing, the man found himself in a period of travel that spanned several decades. Along with clearing his headspace, he was in pursuit of any hints or clues that may lead to Chanook's whereabouts no matter how small the chances might have been. The drawn-out journey nearly brought him across the Earth in doing so. The ex-Rider would pick up many other useful skills and mementos on his way. He heightened his mastery in a small variety of languages, as well as his study of healing magic that had been partially set aside during the last conflicts of the Empire. His traveling had become as much of a pilgrimage as it was a search for Chanook. He returned to hid home in Nightwing years later as a successful Swordsman, historian, and a more proficient Mage. Just as soon as he would settle, he also resumed his role as Librarian to the Nightwing collection as well as his own.

Thirty years have passed since Spencer returned to his home within Nightwing's Western edge of the territory, to which he comes and goes on occasion. Weapons of old battles have been set aside ever since. His shelves are littered with artifacts from his time spent traveling. A collection of books and magical supplies are stacked and housed just about everywhere to make the interior rather claustrophobic to newcomers. His home stands as something more likely to be found on accident than sought out, nestled in the trees. He resumes his studies rather diligently, hardly seen without a bag over his shoulder and a book within reach. His primary endeavor included fresh attempts at deciphering an old tome that had been entrusted to him by Skya prior to her passing.




I opened that book and Hell came from its pages... 


The book was a gift. He didn't know the importance at the time the dragoness gifted it into his hands. Skya spoke of the discovery in her collection, like it could offer the wandering spirit of a man all the answers he had been hunting for so long. Her eyes had seen something he has yet to find in its conflicting, cryptic pages. The book's author is unknown. As to the writing contained inside, one page to the next is a labyrinth of coded twists and turns that would leave any linguist or philologist perplexed. Over the years the man had all but given up on the object that sat dusty on the shelf over his workbench. It served as an old memory for a friend that had eventually passed on without granting him any more secrets on why she had given it to him in the first place.

“  It's always the furthest corner, the overlooked space... if history hasn't erased it.
Dark Arts and magical studies alike have not been a favorite of history.


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 I'll finish the war I never knew I started.  




On his person, there are a handful of items kept handy as a constant throughout the years. Spencer keeps a messenger bag slung over his shoulder that has considerable wear-and-tear to its edges. Despite it, the bag is laced with its own magical properties. Within it, a journal or two are usually kept to catalog what he comes across during his travel away from Nightwing, along with writing materials. Precariously, the longsword he carried as a Rider is hidden within the bag and can be pulled out at a moment's notice, defying the physics of the small bag when it appears in full. A small array of weapons and other survivalist material accompany it. A spare change of clothes or two is kept on standby. He keeps a spellbook handy with a series of useful spells, diagrams, incantations, and objects to assist, should he need them. He usually has a free-reading book, alongside the mysterious grimoire that has caused him misfortune over time. In more recent years, he also carries an outdated brick of a cell phone that he claims no expertise in using.

+ Now Carrying :
 [The Water Nation Handbook]  [Lore of The Invictus]
[The ??? Grimoire] [Traveler's Spellbook]  [Field Notes]



  And so, I learned to walk tall... 

but I walked taller among them than I ever was alone. 

Travelers.   Friends.   Mentors.    Comrades. 




 Spencer had his hands full from the moment he first encountered the Water Drake. He was traveling the coast of Nightwing when Tempest came barreling in, and proved to be the first sign of anything draconic that Spencer had seen in countless years. Tempest is considerably younger than the dragons the Ex-Rider had been accustomed to. While testing his patience at times, the Drake has sparked some life back in the melancholic rider after the years spent alone in the territory. The two have since teamed up in their traveling when Temp was not the only thing that washed up from the shore: with great fortune came great dangers when the threat of a tsunami means that something else is looming under the sea floor, threatening Nightwing's main land. The task of getting to the bottom of the disturbance has paired the two together, and effectively dragged Spencer out of his element. 




 The woman had Spencer's utmost curiosity from the moment they spoke to one another. She was all the things he didn't expect to run into on accident, but in truth, Cass was someone wrongfully drawn into his troubles at a time when he might have needed her most. Following a run-in late at night at a library, the night was filled with mischief for survival-sake. It was also filled with chatter when he realized she was a linguist, scholar, mage, and plenty of other things he has yet to decipher. The two are now travel partners as she graciously offered her skills to help him in deciphering the book in his possession that has proven to be most dangerous. Spencer worries about the reprocaution of bringing another person into his personal troubles with the book. On the same token, so rarely does he travel with someone so formidible. 





 Cael was met by pure circumstances of walking by a park bench at the right time to hear a phone ring. After taking up the task of returning it to the rightful owner, he now finds himself in Birdie's Emporium where the quaint storefront holds its promises to anyone that walks in. Spencer can sense something is strange about the woman, but hasn't quite placed what it is yet. Only time will tell what [More to come]. 




 The two met by chance during one of Spencer's rare visits to the city, where the library doors closed early and had locked the two in for the night. After becoming acquainted while sneaking back out using Spencer's abilities to do so, it took the walk back to the boy's apartment to decipher that the two had something in common. While Spencer had studied magic for a large portion of his life, Nemo's skillset held more promise than he could imagine at such a young age. Despite how long the two could have visited and chatted, their meeting was relatively short that night. Lone behold, the short meeting opened the door for a visit that would come a few years later when Spencer would need his assistance most [More to come].  





 Irrlith was a visitor to Nightwing not from another continent, but from the outer edges of space. Not much is known about the beast aside from his origins being somewhere distant and the looming fact that Earth's gravity is what trapped him here after a crash landing many, many years ago. The space beast has taken up refuge in the territory after conflict with humans and remained for quite some time under the Earth Nation's ground when Nightwing grew dormant. That was, until recently, when Spencer and Tempest woke the behemoth from its slumber in order to help them with the task of keeping the beast's second home safe. Not much is known about Irrlith's origins or biology, but he seems to have a sense of trust toward Spencer who is always looking for what he can learn about the brute. 




Raiya will forever be Spencer's best friend when it comes to two-legged kind. She resided in Nightwing well before he ended up there, and the two grew attached at the hip once Spencer had taken the oath as a Rider. Having once been one herself, she was responsible for much of his advice while training, as well as the swordsmanship he honed during that era. The two have fought, struggled, and laughed, and are always up to something when they cross each other's paths. Rai has since moved on from the territory and runs her supernatural shop known as Omnia. Spencer pays a visit on sparse occasions, allowing the two to pick up their friendship right where it leaves off. Time has changed how often they might see one another, but some things never change. 




No practitioner of magic is complete without a loyal familiar. Cloudfeather is a leucistic red tailed hawk that can often be seen in off in the distance whenever Spencer finds himself far enough from the cities for her to follow. The raptor is capable of flying miles on end when needed to deliver messages in times of need, or exchanges between Raiya and Spencer when they find themselves apart. Cloudfeather has a seemingly mystical connection with the man, when no matter where his travels take him she is bound to find where he is once called. The bird is clever beyond its appearance and reliable beyond measure. She leaves his side only when delivering, occasionally switching roles with Raiya's own hawk, Cyr




Having first gotten to know Zoriko as a hatchling, she is the daughter of Skya and a dragon of the sky underneath her human facade. The dragoness was someone Spencer had the privlege of re-acquainting with after his absence from the territory when she actively sought him out following the advice of another former Rider. After re-acquainting from when she was young, Spencer took upon himself the task of teaching her magic from the ground up, helping the young dragoness tap into the magic that flows through her veins just as his own mentor did for him. After some time of training together, the two eventually parted ways. To this day he hasn't seen Zoriko again, but thinks back to their magic lessons together fondly when it was a time that his house didn't seem quite as empty. 



 Until we meet again.  



 To this day, Spencer still looks back in wonder to the moment where he had been asked to become a Rider. His partner was none other than Chanook, a dragon of rolling thunder and electricity that stood as a general among war beasts in Nightwing. While others knew him as a goliath, to his Rider, he was a lumbering beast at times and above all, his guardian and most trusted friend. The two spent their days in close proximity and fought wars by one anothers' side. Following the last conflicts of the territory, the two became separated and the man has carried a hole in his chest ever since. Spencer still believes that Chanook is out there due to the feint, yet present connection between the two that has not yet been severed. As a result, he has an occasional knack for dropping what he is doing at the slightest hint of a lead toward his whereabouts. 




 Spencer saw much of the dragoness during the height of Nightwing, down unto the end. Sibling to Chanook, Skya was second in command to the Empress and was a formidable force come times of conflict. However, Spencer knew her first and foremost by the library hidden deep within her den near the center of the territory. He was a trusted visitor over time and has been responsible for the upkeep and mending of the books within it for countless years. He knows every main twist and turn to reach the hidden collection, down to the dragoness' den. Since her passing, the room has erupted with plant life, where she remains in a shrine-like state to present day. He vows to keep up his work of guarding the collection under her keep for as long as he is able. 




 The two first met in the earlier years of Spencer's settling in Nightwing as a crossing of paths, and they would come to meet again by the time the territory grew dormant. To the deities and spirits that had their eye on Novak, Spencer's spiritual nature being present was a trigger for alarm. Little did they know that their meeting would turn into a chase that would lead them to a chase that sent them cross-continent. The end of their trek lead them straight into the Underworld in order to settle the issue once and for all. As fate was never kind to either men before meeting, things hadn't gone as planned. What the spirit gained was his life and peace from being pursued. What he lost was the friend that had his back through it all. Spencer isn't sure what happened to Novak in the end, or whether he still exists somewhere in the realm below. The thought weighs heavily on his mind.   







[OOC: Things are coming together.] 


+ Active Threads :

Tempest  Water Nation Temple  |  "Did you say a sorcerer?"

Cassella  | Melbourne, State Library Victoria  |  "He's gone..?"

Raiya |  Letters via Hawks   |  "I'm so happy to see you."

 Brona (AU)Forest, ???   |  "Come on, we need to go."

Unity (AU)On The Highway   | "Who's side are they on?"


This character originates from around 2011-2012, and much of the lore and stories told originate from events written within that timeline until now. As a writer, especially with Spence here, I'm fairly lenient with response times. He is a 'support' character primarily, but I have a few goals I would like to finish in his plotline yet. Great starting locations include libraries, cafes, the woods, natural landmarks... although I can put Spencer anywhere, he has versatility in settings. | FC: Nariman Malanov 


Ghost Stories

Coming Soon..?


I am open to new roleplay threads

Threads are Closed

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  • "Given that it'll take them some time to turn that reactor into a bomb, we might."

    Turning his pointy head aside along with the rest of his metallic body, said bot shifted all his exterior plates to reconfigure again. In seconds, he was able to change himself back into the two-seater sports car. Once complete, the driver-side door swung upward to open since it was a vertical one.

    "You coming?" His associate questioned, the dash lights flashing with each word spoken.

    . . .

    It was a two-hour drive from their starting point, with Unity having taken control again since only he knew the routes. This led them through a number of long back roads through tunnels of trees, mostly to use the foliage as cover so nobody could get a decent aerial view or their position. Keeping away from any major highways wasn't a bad idea.

    The duo later pulled into a gravel driveway mostly covered by weeds, leading to what appeared to be some sort of junkyard surrounded by makeshift walls. Countless vehicles, pieces of scrap, some rail equipment, and even a few fuselages from commercial jetliners. All of it was surrounded by a forest.

    Moving through it slowly, the rogue Autobot came to a halt. His driver-side door flipped open again, allowing a certain Mage to step out. 

    Should Spencer disembark, the white mech transformed, only to slide the digits from his servos under the soil. Soon, a square-shaped section of the ground, or a giant hatch disguised as part of it, was lifted. "After you." Unity said, waiting on him to step down before entering as well, closing it behind them.

    Inside was a corridor made from mostly concrete, which sloped deeper underground and straightened out. Caged lamps producing a white glow illuminated it overhead, with some pipes running along the walls. Just about all of it was barren, no decorations to be seen as of yet.

    Strolling past a curved section of the hallway, they'd arrive at a large central room. Laying in the middle were a number of giant computer-like terminals, control stands, workbenches, and even a weapon rack against the back wall. Directly ahead of the computer systems was a circular tunnel with a dead end, which had a set of faded white half rings over it, and cables running through its ceiling.

    "Took some time to dig out all this and gather enough cement. That corridor with the rings is a Ground Bridge, it's a device that can open a portal to almost any location on Earth. The only issue with using it is that it requires an operator at the control stand to make return trips. Other than that, I have a jammer installed to minimize the risk of this place being found." He would explain, rather casually.

    Going over towards a terminal, Unity pressed a button to power up the three monitors, one of which had a display of Earth itself. Luckily for Spencer, there was an elevated table for him to stand on so he could be at the same height. 

    "At the moment, we're facing two problems. One, finding the Decepticon warship. Second, it's a suicide mission, us against a whole army. We'd have to sneak aboard somehow." Already torn at what seemed like an impossible situation, his head dipped forward, disappointed in being unable to think of a solution for both problems.

    "Maybe it's not entirely hopeless. The Decepticons have a few Energon mines, and I know the location of one. Either we could go there, wait for the warship to pick up said material, or~ forge a Decepticon beacon, plant it somewhere, and sneak aboard when it arrives. We'd still need to get on undetected."

    . . . 

    “We call it a spark, it contains our minds, our life force, memories, you name it.” The Decepticon told him in a slightly more neutral tone, almost objectively since it was a fact of their existence. At least now they were aware of Spencer’s vulnerabilities, and that he wasn’t as strong as they thought he was.

    This next question brought a venomous grin to the Seeker's metallic face. "What better way to make the government complicit than to blackmail them with a weapon of mass destruction? Once Knockout is finished rigging it, any city of our choosing will be at our mercy. With Lord Megatron's return, humanity will cower before his might."

    Now that his pending goals were made known, both crimson optics glanced towards their ship's view screen. “This world seems to be full of surprises.”

  • "Elvish?" Now this was interesting. "Ya learn something new every day." He added, fascinated to hear about why the place was designed the way it was.

    "Oh, almost forgot where I was," Tempest said when taking a moment to recall what he last shared with her just a few seconds ago. "Now I remember."

    "So after the big die-off, as I've been calling it, I met a man, Gleeon. He was a rich bloke that had a lot resources at the time and wanted to build an enclosure for me. One day he got wrongfully framed for murder and ran away with me on a ship. Because we both had nowhere to go, Gleeon got the idea to make a safe haven for special kinds of people, supernaturals, beasts, you name it.

    But it blossomed into something more. New people started joining in, including a brood of Sirens that took a liking to him after we saved a sister of theirs.

    Long story short, the bloke who framed Gleeon sent armies after us, and I met my uncle again when he found us. Eventually, we beat that villain guy, his name was Nikolai Aras. We lived in peace for a good while until something terrible happened one night."

    For whatever reason as hinted, his expression dulled down into a low, visible frown, having stared at the floor for his next bit of the story.

    "Myself and others woke up to a horrid sound, a demonic, static-like screech I'll never forget. Most of the family went up top on the decks to find out what was going on, and we learned the hard way.

    It was some kind of monster, made from machine parts that could fly, a massive monster. Despite the fact we had multiple drakes in our group, we couldn't stop it. Draven, one of the dragons in Gleeon’s gang, flew into the air so high that only a being with supernatural powers could be doing it. I'll never be certain, but I think Draven died that night.

    After the nightmare began, everyone scattered and fled the ship. We ran, and ran, and never stopped running until I was long clear of it. To this day, I still don't what that thing was, but it was enough everybody scram."

    This was a rather unsettling tale that Spencer likely hadn't heard about before: The very cause of the great separation as he knew it. There was certainly more to this story, but even Tempest wasn't aware of the creature's identity, or why it attacked them specifically. Eventually, he was able to face Yuna again. 

    "Since then I haven't found anybody, but Spence and I did find that same old ship, albeit abandoned. It's at the water's surface on top of us right now. Just about everything in its interior survived, most likely the creature gave up and didn't feel like wrecking the ship since everybody left."

  • A moment was taken to secure the said hat upon her head, the only thing that now kept her damp hair from sticking out in places. Cassella gingerly rubbed a hand against her sleeve as if she could already feel patches of the impending burn. “Here’s to hoping that my sunscreen can do the job just fine.”

    It usually never did, but on a time like this, when did that ever stop her?

    With a sweeping look at the groggy man from head to toe, the woman finally twitched a smile. There it was, that grin that was on that pale face from the very beginning of this trip.

    "Come, let's get some coffee on the way there."

     . . .


    Even copious amounts of caffeine can never win from exhaustion, it seemed. 

    Cassella was already dozing off at the majority of the regional train ride, briefly perturbed by incoming phone calls that were never really answered, or the occasional announcements and reminders through the intercom. She was groggily awake for the remainder of the bus ride at least, mostly fueled by the snacks that she stashed along (as unhealthy as they were), and was still able to sleepily prattle to Spencer from time to time regarding the sceneries and the reconstructions that they passed by. The acclaimed Great Ocean road stretched for two hundred and forty kilometers, she said. But at least, they’re only going halfway – their limit was still nightfall, after all.

    The bay spoke of salt in the air, water and waves spanning the horizon, foam lapping upon the rocky shores and sand that graced the streets bordering the edge of the road. Stores, cafes, and restaurants peppered the streets close to the bus bay where they took off, amongst a few other tourists who unconventionally took the long commute. With the skies laden with sunshine and hardly any clouds for cover until the afternoon, Cass was starting to wonder if persisting through the superficial torment was even a decent idea.

    It was a guest house that she finally landed themselves in later that day. Fifteen minutes away from the shoreline, the hilltop place boasted a glorious view of the slow setting sun. To Cassella who was already an exhausted wreck the moment they reached the wooden porch bordered by metal rails, perennial vines, and shrubs of flowers, it was a peaceful ending to the day that started off the hinges, just in time for their destination without anything eventful happening along the way. Their very concerned host who received them to check-in was a pleasant old lady who spoke in brief instances of Italian, already recognizing the woman right away from a previous phone call.

    It wasn’t usual that a tourist would ask for an indefinite retreat on an inquiry, but sweet little Cassella has her personal fool-proof excuses backed up with pleasantries, along with the discounts and deposit to match. Agreements were easily finalized in person, and perhaps it was the fatigue and the mild sunburn speaking, but the young woman can’t remember the last time she was that overjoyed to receive the keys.


    The place itself was fairly old with brick walls and polished hardwood floors, but the second-floor suite was well-kept, and a whole lot more spacious than the last one they occupied, with a television, bigger furniture, and chairs upon the balcony to match. Even the thinly veiled windows, spanning close to the ceiling and the floors provided a full view from the slightly overgrown hills straight to the ocean in the distance. Cassella’s inspection wasn’t as energetic as before, but she obviously wouldn’t miss it for the world. With the utilities perfectly running and without anything strange to pique her curiosity, that was the only time she was able to conclude that she was truly satisfied.

    They are safe. They are alright. 

    Hours later, they are still alive.

    “I specifically got the place because the reviews said that the free breakfast was really nice,” she murmured, finally throwing herself on one of the twin beds close to the window. That was one good enough reason for her, the rest of whatever luxuries offered was just icing on the cake, apparently. “Do you think we should have gone closer to the coast? What do you think?” She sank into the mattress, sparing one long unmoving moment with her face buried against the floral-smelling sheets before she finally flipped herself on her back.

    “Ha, it’s time to unpack.”

  • Raiya gave a curious tilt of her head as the book was withdrawn. She acknowledged the wordless permission, picked up the book from the table and proceeded to leaf through its pages. The elven's eyes regularly rose from the book and towards Spencer as an indication that he still had her attention while he spoke.

    "I believe he has the means to kill me."

    Her eyes snapped up onto him the second that sentence came to completion, and there they remained. Blue hues harbored a sudden and sharp virulence that held through the duration of his explanation. The lesser-seen expression was an involuntary reaction that was in no way directed towards Spencer himself. Rather, it was the notion of his words that summoned it; this faceless man who seemed so intent for Spencer to meet his end, and had the potential means to carry it out. The mere concept was alarming.

    The escalating whistle of the kettle made Raiya jump slightly, breaking the glower with a blink and tore her gaze towards it. The book was gently closed and placed back onto the table, and Raiya said nothing as she walked over to the stove to pull the shrill kettle off of the burner. Two metallic mugs were withdrawn from her bag and unwrapped. Some of the freshly boiled water was poured into them, swished around for a few seconds, then dumped out into the sink. A tactic to warm the mugs up first. The mugs were then filled with the water and delivered to the table.

    "Never a dull moment, is there?" The rhetorical question was chipped from a rigid tone. A sigh followed, as did the completion of her thought process. Her following words came out quieter than the previous ones, and not nearly as acerbic. "Times like these make me miss the dull days."

    She went back to her satchel and withdrew a glass jar of dark-colored grinds, as well as another smaller jar of sugar.

    "All I have right now is instant coffee. I haven't had the chance to go on a supply run in a bit." Her words adopted a more apologetic tone while she placed the containers and a spoon before the other. She settled into one of the other chairs and prepared her own coffee. The elf held the mug in both hands, yet did not drink it immediately.

    "So..." Raiya paused, the syllable fading into a sigh as she worked to gather her thoughts. The elf frowned a bit while she worked to piece things together. "You have the book, you know who is after you, you mentioned the need to find someone who can translate it. Do you have any more leads on someone who can help you with that?"

    She rose the mug as if to take a sip, yet paused.

    "Oh! And this other mage. Does she have prior conflict with Marius as well?"

  • "Melbourne? As in Australia?" She asked, taking a second to mentally pinpoint that location in comparison to where they currently were.

    The left corner of her lip was drawn back in a subconscious grimace to Spencer's latter question. The gesture was short and quick to fade, yet such an expression seemed quite unbefitting for such a monumental achievement.

    "Yes, King was caught." A brief pause allowed her to find the right words. "He was working for someone, Spence. Someone who's still out there. Mai gave me no details of who it is, but it's no secret that this individual is dangerous. Actually, I don't think that "dangerous" even covers it from the way Mai was acting when she told me about it. She seemed unsettled."

    Raiya looked over at the pot on the stove. Steam was beginning to rise from the nozzle, yet it has not yet reached a boiling point. Her focus drifted absently from the steam while she recalled the behavior of the commander when the two of them spoke. Mai's conduct towards the topic was not drastic, yet it had still caught Raiya off guard. The elf could not fault her for not revealing more, but... She was worried for her friend. Something unpleasant and oddly foreboding still stirred when Raiya allowed herself to dwell on it.

    Soon enough, Raiya turned her attention back onto Spencer.

    "On the topic of dangerous and mysterious individuals, who is this "Marius" you wrote of? What exactly happened in Melbourne?"

  • “Go for it. I’ll let you know later where we’re going next.” Cassella just tapped him on the shoulder as he stood up. Normally she will be racing for baths against anyone else, but at the moment she was more concerned about crawling her way to her bed– literally. She didn’t even bother fully heaving herself up from the carpeted floor, with only the top half now buried and bundled down against the soft sheets as she started this little quest of hers on the phone. There were a few frantic messages to be responded to from someone so far away, and a string of emails that she didn’t exactly consider important enough to be read.

    There were also a few early messages from Oria, sending in some late beach photographs that they forgot and a shot of the day’s early gourmet breakfast with a noticeably expectant tortoiseshell cat, the household that they once left blissfully unaware of what they had been through… at least for now. Maybe that will cheer Spencer up somehow.

    “Hey, Spencer, the Toastie says hello–

    She jumped at the sound of something slamming against the table. That finally had her up on her feet at an instant to investigate, shuffling over with a protective blanket.

    “Oh– wow.” Cassella peered at the remains of the insect, reaching over to her bag, and daintily pulled out a sheet of tissue from a pocket to conscientiously wipe it, handing him another. With one more glance as her face wrinkled, she tightly balled it up in her fist, light faintly bursting out at the gaps of her fingers as she did, puffs of smoke briefly wafting away. It left nothing but a few specks of gleaming lint that finally winked out. “That’s with you this whole time?”

    If it was, she was surprised that this place wasn't targeted at all. The woman wasn’t angry, but she seemed rather perplexed. There was also that odd, underlying relief that it was gone, however. “You might want to get your stuff checked if there’s more.”

    She looked at her things that were piled up on one end of the table, and her coat that was just tossed aside.

    Old clothes will have to go, just in case.


    . . .


    The rest of that morning was dedicated to Cassella tying up loose ends. A nap didn’t really cure the lingering anxiety on her end over the entire event, and the woman just settled on trying to be productive after a bath and getting a few things patched, packing up their old resources, clearing out her things and her drawers, and finally picking a decent place for their next stop, booking in whatever they needed. She mostly left Spencer on his own devices to rest, even when she came downstairs to say her goodbyes, settling whatever that’s left with their bill.

    Their hosts and a few loitering residents in the lounge seemed fairly sad to see them go after their long stay, but then again, they wouldn’t have many purposes in staying in the city anymore, with the main library that they came here for now closed for interior renovation and repairs. Such a shame, she heard more than once. It was layered and blanketed with wishes of good luck. She knew that their cover story will serve them well along the way, and for now, moving around seemed to do wonders.

    “Hey Spencer, we’re heading off to Apollo Bay.”

    That was uttered so casually as if they were only going for a trip across the block. Normally she’d plan for a trip this far the entire day, but leaving the place was now her priority, especially with what just happened. Cassella was already fully decked out for the entire thing by noon, however, making sure that nothing was forgotten. “It’s southwest from Melbourne, off to the coast. Two trains and a bus from here.”

    Even the rest of the books that didn’t fit her things were now tucked away into a buttoned canvas tote bag that she must have snagged or asked around somewhere. “I’m not a beach person by any means, but we deserve the quiet while we’re taking one more roll with that book. You can speak now or forever hold your peace~”

  • “There’s a few ways to tell if you’re up close. But yes, the ability to transform is a fundamental part in Cybertronian biology. It could be anything from simple wheeled vehicles, to aircraft, boats, ultra-heavy transports, ships in some cases, and even a whole city back on Cybertron. Doubtful you’d ever see a bot that big since most perished in the war.”

    Just as Unity was turning away from him to recompose his own thoughts, another troubling question was hurled his way. This brought an audible sigh from the white mech as his hand partly covered his face, remembering just how many odds were stacked against them, especially in numbers.

    “...I’m afraid so. As long as they remain in possession of that nuclear device, millions of your own natives are at risk since they could easily turn that thing into a bomb. Their most likely target would be a highly populated city to send a strong message to the United States government.” The realization was unpleasant, and now they were faced with a hard decision.

    “We have a choice to make. Track down the Decepticon warship and steal it back, or retreat back to my shelter and come up with a plan before we do anything. It’s almost certainly a suicide mission, and I don’t know how I should feel about it.”

    . . .

    Now that Marius agreed to lend them a hand, all but two bots set foot onto the circular elevator pad. The other flyers were quick to take hold of, and haul a certainly stolen reactor over. Once everybody was on, the platform lurched and began its ascent, bringing them directly inside that old space fairing vessel.

    The interior was a mixture of dark purple, eerie grays, and tertiary red. Its corridors and rooms had ribbing on the walls. Most of it was dimly illuminated by ivory-colored light fixtures overhead, in addition to barren plated floors. Any and all doors were retractable from the looks of it. The Nemesis as it was named, almost felt lifeless on the inside, despite the occasional patrols roaming the halls.

    "This way, Sorcerer."

    Beckoned Starscream, whose heeled feet lightly clanked against the floor when making his way towards their bridge, which would be a slightly considerable walk.

    Their bridge was quite enormous, with a central platform for them to walk on, and two pits on either side where lesser crew were seated at their consoles. At the very front was a holographic terminal, and a series of displays. Up top behind that was a fully transparent view of the heavens outside, despite there being no actual windows on the exterior.

    At the helm was another unique bot, who held a wider torso, slender legs, lengthy arms that were flat in shape, a featureless black visor, illuminated purple lines in between plates, in addition to a blue and gray paint scheme for his exterior. If there was any gaze into said visor, the only aura Marius might pick up on was the fact this one was devoid of all emotion.

    "This is our communication and surveillance chief of the Decepticons: Soundwave. His results never disappoint. You and he are to assist each other for this endeavor."

    Already knowing this was a guest, a cable-like tendril detached from the spy officer's side and inserted itself into a socket. From there, the navigation terminal on his left would have the currently foreign Cybertronian language shift to English for Marius to make use of.

    "Tell me, how dangerous is that pale fleshing? Something tells me he's not easily squashed, given his prior actions back there." Starscream would inquire from behind, just as Soundwave stepped aside to give their ally some room for better access.

  • "That'd be- correct?" There was a visible expression of confusion plastered across his scale-covered face when she asked for confirmation on his identity. If she had pieced it all together, the sea drake certainly wasn't from the sound of it. It was as if he'd either forgotten or was outright unaware of his own true heritage. "But yeah, there was a quake."

    Since their new acquaintance was leaving, his finned tail raised itself and waved in Amatheia's direction to give her his goodbye. Now it was just the three of them.

    Another interesting bit of history came about. Since Tempest knew virtually nothing of this tale, he didn't add anything to the conversation regarding that dreadful rider, who sounded like an absolute menace of his time. His emerald hues locked onto the blade that had their Queen all concerned, even he felt somewhat uncomfortable just knowing what it contributed to. At least Spencer wasn't likely to abuse it any time soon.

    "Oh, sure." The young drake agreed and turned to begin his walk towards the next flight of stairs. Yuna's question made him perk up slightly in her direction until it was answered. 

    "I~ Don't know a whole lot actually. But the pod was huge, in the hundreds. Its leader was my uncle, Mel, he was thousands of years old and was the biggest water drake ever seen. He used to tell me and other hatchlings a lot of stories, one being how our pod came to be.

    The story goes something like this: Many eons ago, there was a mystical place under the ocean akin to a water city, almost exactly like this lovely place now that I think about it. Then there came a big bad fire Dragoness, who was on a massive rampage across the surface, destroying and conquering everything she came across. She was so powerful that no amount of sea dragons could stop her. On top of that, some say she'd eat the hatchlings of her enemies, like a true, bloodthirsty monster. 

    That was when Mel stepped in and proposed an exodus. If they couldn't fight, why not run and go somewhere safe. Aside from a bunch of protests, my Uncle took as many as he could with him, and fled. It led them to Australia's waters out in the Southern Ocean, occasionally going back and forth to the Arctic.

    Life there was almost as good. As time went by, humans started dumping their waste in our waters. Even worse, they eventually started poaching us. Some were killed for sport, others for experimentation, and fear. Them overfishing made it a lot worse since food was running short. Our numbers started dropping, and by the time I hatched from an egg, there were less than a hundred.

    One night I wandered a bit too far from my mum and a bad storm came. Couldn't find anybody, so I got lost and separated. If you want to, I could tell you how I came across my uncle again who may still be alive."

  • Each war waged will always result in casualties, and the worst thing anyone can do was to let all those be in vain. Those were the words that she always repeated in her head through the countless times she held her ground, the same words that offered her a morbid sense of comfort through each necessary sacrifice made. And yet they were stuck in her throat, with Cassella simply inclined to listen. Reckless could be a better term, that, she won’t deny. But if there was anything clear to her from the very beginning of this trip, this Spencer that she knew of has a better, more grounded sense of morals than she does, taking it upon himself to carry all that blame for something inevitable…

    Even to the extent of offering what he had left just to look her over and to mend what he could. From the way the woman twitched a smile at that, she was most likely considering the offer, only more preoccupied with other things in mind. On the rare occasions that she was given the chance to slowly explain the workings of what was going on with her, she could feel them shifting. Listening. Eyes wide open, even without any visible indication, like a curled beast in an abyss with all senses alert and hanging onto each word.

    And what had you done? A helpless chuckle mushroomed out of her throat upon hearing that. It wasn’t out of malice, Cassella almost sounded miserable. There was never anything good that happened every time she hears that question in any form it ever had, and yet she has persisted. "Most of the time they do obey. An extra set of hands or eyes can be helpful. There were only two occasions when they tried to attack someone without my command– never really knew the reason behind that.” Those frail shoulders shrugged. “Don’t worry, they’ve taken quite a liking to you, and they’re still very curious about what you are.”

    "They do hurt sometimes if I need to call on them quickly. If I need to lift something really heavy. You will anticipate the strain the more often it’s done. The flesh will learn.” The expression on that face was unreadable. “Remember when I asked you if you’d still want to remember your past if it’s less than pleasant?” It was a day like this, in this very room, at the beginning of their stay. When they were still so optimistic about what this trip will bring. “I offered and brought literal hell to their doorstep, Spencer. My complaints are nothing compared to that."

    Maybe saying that out loud already held a significant amount of weight. Coming clean always had that stab. This darker subject that she herself had willfully opened didn’t seem to help lighten that up, however, and that disclosure finally dispelled the vacant look on that pallid countenance.

    She’s gone. 

    How can an entire existence be just… gone? Just like that, in one solid blast, a soul was completely erased without a trace. To say that it answered her questions would be a blatant lie, it just left her with more agitated queries that she knew Spencer wouldn’t know the response to. No, he didn’t look like he was mistaken, it was the face of a man who was bearing the truth with so much pain. Nobody got killed today, she wanted to tell him early on but never did– for she was truly dead wrong. She took a deep breath as if she was intending to say something, only to fall silent. Instead, she inched her way closer and finally wrapped her arms around him, bearing the apology that they both knew won’t restore anything.

    Her eyes were now stinging. Maybe there was the desperation to hide and keep that together, based on how tight her hold seemed. But at the same time, there was that reminder that they were both alive at that moment, and the person she was latching onto was just as corporeal and living as she was. No matter how cold or eerie she’ll feel from him, hers will always be the indomitable warmth of firelight, freely and tightly given by a friend, no matter how fragile and small she appeared. In the predominantly dusty smell of burnt wood, cinders, and ashes that seemed to be a grisly reminder of what just transpired, beneath all that was the faintest scent of cookies and peach blossoms. Perhaps he needed that– or maybe she needed the reassurance more than he did. It doesn’t matter now, with that news it felt like this was the only thing that kept her tethered. 

    "I can get things lined up and reserve a place farther away from here. If we leave around noon, the arrival time to the next point will be hours before sundown. You can leave that one to me. Unless you’d rather have me arrange that for tomorrow morning." Her feeble voice was shaky, despite the resolution that limned it. After a few more moments of utter quiet, she finally let go.

    "We got some packing up to do, but in the meantime, it’s still early. You need to rest, even just for a few hours. And then you can do whatever healing spell you’d see fit, it’s not like I’ll be dying until then.” She finally grinned. Her eyes were pleading, and she was almost certain that it looked pathetic. “You're too damn cooked for this– we both are. Please?"

  • If you were a necrophiliac, which celebrity would you want to dig up?

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