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+ S P E N C E R +

 

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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 .

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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.

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“ 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. 

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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.

 

 

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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.
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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.

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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.

 

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

-Wip-

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.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, veri habeo nostrud pro te, mel an velit nonumy. Partem discere concludaturque ne eam. Mentitum adipiscing vix ad, te dicat dictas iriure nam. Ut est adipisci constituam. Eu eam agam mediocrem, cu inani dictas eligendi mei, detraxit assueverit pri ei. Nam no errem principes, nam ferri conclusionemque at. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, veri habeo nostrud pro te, mel an velit nonumy. Partem discere concludaturque ne eam. Mentitum adipiscing vix ad, te dicat dictas iriure nam.

 

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

 

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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]

 

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  And so, I learned to walk tall... 

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


Travelers.   Friends.   Mentors.    Comrades. 
 

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 TEMPEST

 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. 

  

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CASSELLA

 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. 

  

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CAELESTRA

 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]. 

  

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 NEMO

 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].  

  

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IRRLITH
[NPC]

 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. 

  

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 RAIYA 

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. 

 

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CLOUDFEATHER

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

  

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ZORIKO 

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. 

 

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 Until we meet again.  

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CHANOOK

 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. 

 

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 SKYA

 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. 

 

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NOVAK

 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.   

 

 

 

 
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[OOC: Inspiration, you can come back anytime.] 

 

+ Active Threads :

Tempest  Water Nation - The Gravesite  |  "...!!!"

Cassella  | Melbourne, State Library Victoria  |  "Who was he?"

Raiya |  Letters via Hawks   |  " Instincts rarely lie to their owners... please be careful. "

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

Unity (AU)N/A   |  Plotting.

 

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 

I am open to new roleplay threads

Threads are Closed


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  • When was the last time she heard something like this? In the depths of an old ship, a young man tottering after her with all available handbooks in hand while complaining about how much of all this modern technology had left him behind. About how it all flew by so fast as soon as one glanced away, leaving anyone racing for the aftermath.  About all the little bits and pieces of how much it all changed, sometimes in just a push of a button to yield results or how it became a whole lot more complex than it once was,  always started with the begrudging intro of “Back in my time...”. For a brief moment, that cheered her up, a grin almost twitching its way up her face. The only time she finally allowed this to be visible was when the amusement plainly showed through his voice, smugly beaming at him in return. Internally, she chided herself at the notion.

    Old people do become so sentimental at times, she figured. Their faces might not show, but really, they aren’t any different. No wonder she was still desperately clinging to whatever that’s left.

    While most of the photographs that she obtained over the years of her stay depicted steadier, happier days, this didn’t really stop her from intently listening to the brief account of a man named Lenn. Spencer did seem to have fond memories of the man to recall, no matter how distant they are. And yet sometimes things just take a turn for the worse despite all efforts to keep that at bay. Sometimes it doesn't have to be anyone's fault at all, and trying is the only thing left there is to do. Cassella knew nothing more about him other than the information that she was taking now… but how much does it all have to hurt that anyone who truly knew him can only wish him peace? "I believe you did what you could to help while he was around, Spencer." The quiet certainty in her voice left no room for doubt. "And should he find his way home, you'll be a familiar face that will receive him again. Wherever he is, he’s probably wondering what you’ve been up to these days-- you gotta fill him in someday.” It didn’t seem to be an aimless assumption, it's just something that friends do for each other, all the while wishing that they could do so much more. Even with how twisted her definition was of doing something for someone that goes to extremes, perhaps in a way, she understood.

    Is it still home if the things that made it such were mostly gone? She painfully swallowed back the thought, not even wanting to dare herself to say anything about that. She allowed him to shift the atmosphere of this conversation, of Spencer contemplating about the others that he met. Of the people that briefly crossed his mind. "Wolves?" While her eyebrows twitched up and she sounded quite mystified, she didn't dismiss this at all. “Huh, you’ve met quite the interesting bunch. I guess that’s one of the perks of being around for quite a long while.” For a quiet moment, she watched a few more people turn up, strolling around the quiet section where they were at. Her own scrapbook was finally closed as she carefully tucked this in her bag. A small bunch of papers from the copier was pushed inside as well, though a little more unceremoniously than the first. 

    “I’ll show you around the other halls, come on! Who knows if you'll recognize something along the way."

     

    . . . 

     

    Aside from all the volumes she had laid her hands on or the shelves that she had lingered around on, a small chunk of the next hour was spent looking through various available exhibits and for the perfect postcards in one of the standing booths. Cassella seemed to take a bit of time browsing through the displays, claiming that she knew of a select few who still appreciated these articles deeply. At the end of that she ended up buying a small bundle anyway, after all, there’s no end to the use of fine art. Picking amongst the bunch for posting is going to be a dilemma for another time.

    Maybe it was an afternoon well spent. An afternoon that she would have wanted to drag on to the evening’s closing time, if not for the impending setting sun, or the way the rays were starting to cast longer and darker shadows upon the airier library halls. While the things that she was hoping to find were not in this place even after all the quick browsing through directories, it wasn’t all in vain, with the reassurance that this place will always be around.

    “Hey Spencer," her voice was an indistinct chirp. She hasn't strayed far from the man after all. "Have you found anything nice so far?" 

  • There was a pause when she disappeared back into her home, leaving them to wonder what she was doing, or if that aquatic woman would ever come back. One talon reached to run the nails of his digits behind a webbed ear, scratching it. Unfortunately for them, he couldn’t hear much with how quiet they were.

    His attention snapped back to her upon the female’s return as she made an announcement. Before Tempest could ask, Spencer had already done so. Her? Even more alarming was the hint of it being a monarch. Now that the rider was seated, said wingless drake pushed off the terrain using all fours and shifted his tail for movement.

    It only took him a few seconds to catch up near her right side, only a few feet behind. As the young beast kept a steady pace, he would present a question to the mage without looking behind him, mostly due to the fact it would disrupt their course because of hydrodynamics. “What does she mean by queen? Is that who I think it is?” He’d ask, and only one name came to mind when that word was uttered.

    “Unless- This place has its own leader.” The sea drake proposed, having to shift his focus back on their current path when venturing beyond the entrance into that chasm. By this point, his mind was beginning to run wild with theories, even more so than when they first stumbled across that village.

  • Since water only amplified his hearing, there was definitely some audible activity going on in there, and that only increased his heart rate. Despite how much smaller this presumed resident would be, it was likely going to be the first character they'd encounter, and hopefully not the last. One way or another, they were going to get answers or at least a sense of direction.

    A beat was skipped in his chest from getting their initial response, which resulted in a brief exchange of words. For now, he decided to let Spencer do the talking until that door would be opened. Sure enough, it did.

    The young drake was certainly breath taken at what kind of being they just stumbled across, unable to piece words together at how awe-struck he was. Scaly lips shifted into a seemingly joy-filled smile, being the first occasion he's ever seen real merfolk. Both front claws rested on the terrain beneath them as a question was presented.

    "Irrlith, he's a dragon from the stars." Since she seemed more formal at first glance, Tempest held back on any nicknames he'd given to the brute for the sake of making a decent impression. It was at this moment when said aquatic male lowered his head and decided to ask a few questions of his own. He was not going to waste an opportunity while they had it.

    "Are there others? Like me? Here, in this place? Or do you have the time to talk?" Asked the Dovah, who kept a lower tone to avoid the possibility of startling her.

  • Happy Berfday owo

  • "Sort of. Not dirt particles, but I can make the water pull 'em down." The much smaller reptile would reply, who immediately had flashbacks of their first mishap involving a tsunami, and mass flooding. Weirdly enough, he realized that they almost forgot about the cause of that catastrophe. Perhaps wherever they were going could provide some answers. 

    Nothing could've prepared them for the sight they were about to stumble across…

    What they discovered was astonishing to say the least. At the realization that those were structures below, most likely residential ones from the looks of it. A good minute or two was spent simply staring at what he hoped was an active community. His draw almost dropped at what all three of them were seeing. 

    "Oh. My. God." Was all Tempest could say initially. "There’s got to be people or something living in those! We should go look!" He'd suggest before turning back briefly. "Irrlith, hurry up!!"

    Not wanting to wait for a second longer to uncover the truth or possibly find some inhabitants, said water drake immediately took off, using his tail to make a beeline download towards the aquatic village. While descending upon it, his emerald orbs caught a glance at the larger structure further out but decided to investigate it later. For now, he just wanted to see anyone was living there besides ordinary marine life.

    Soon approaching one of the smaller buildings, he would slow after ceasing all movement from his tail, still allowing himself to drift forward. Closing in on it, Tempest’s claws took hold of the surrounding terrain it rested out, eventually circling it to search for any visible entrance or windows that could be seen through. At this point, what was going to be their next course of action? He wondered, contemplating on how they’d summon somebody outside.

    "Gonna try something. Be prepared to calm some nerves if they get started by me." The sea drake advised the rider, now facing downward. By raising a front talon and curling it, he would knock the joints of his digits against the door, repeatedly in one go, perhaps a little too hard since it sounded more like banging. For now, he scooted back and lowered his head for Spencer to slid off.

    While waiting for someone to answer, he'd pop a question to the man when nudging his side with a single digit. "How much you wanna bet they're merfolk?"

  • There was far more truth in the rumors he heard about, things that nobody would want to believe if they didn’t see it first hand. Perhaps on that fateful day, the Rider would discover the source of the activity.

    It would only be moments after the white mech himself arrived, having rolled in through the frontal chain-metal gates, which had been left open for years. The false sportscar took its time creeping in, careful not to emit any unwanted sound with its motor since that would only attract attention. Once an adequate spot was located, he’d quietly pull in.

    Within seconds, exterior plates rose up, disassembled, folded up, and entire segments reshaping themselves in unison. What came out of this was a mechanized figure: Almost angelic in appearances due to the shoulders and wide portions on his back, followed by a cobalt visor, in addition to aerodynamic legs, plus a pointed chest. Once the transformation process was complete, he’d begin his silent trek into that abandoned property.

    Not anticipating the likelihood of any humans being present, the rogue bot carefully stepped over towards Spencer’s position, just behind a pile of stacked containers and ruined crates. Just enough sound was made in order for the Rider to hear it somewhat, including the vibrations it came with. Slowly but surely, it was getting closer, one might assume that only a Dragon could have that much weight.

    All of a sudden, a metallic foot swept over, lightly bumping into the man after coming around the corner of said boxes. Immediately, a death glare was cast down right at him. Instantaneously, his right arm shifted and augmented itself into a weapon barrel, which had a soft azure glow within to hint that it was some sort of blaster, or energy-based weapon. Like a deer in headlights, a stare was likely to ensue.

    “What’re you doing here? Human?” The Autobot questioned, eventually transforming his limb back into its default state. The tone in his voice was anything but welcoming, just about rude. Whoever this being was, he was more than a machine judging by the bitter personality that Spencer was on the receiving end of.

    Hearing multiple sets of dense footsteps similar to his own, his head snapped in the direction behind those old shipping containers beside them. “Get down…!” He whispered demandingly, urging him to hide quickly from whatever was approaching.

    Over in an open lot, just a few yards away were three other mechanical figures, two of whom had a more demonic appearance with exterior aesthetics, double optics, and horns. The third one leading them was more streamlined, bearing wings, a single set of ruby optics, a smother form, and a more round head than the others. In front of them was a large metal casket of sorts, which had a yellow radioactive decal on both ends, and that could mean only one thing.

    “I’ve already let Soundwave know that we have the nuclear device. A shame it’s a one-time use thing, otherwise I’d radiate the whole planet.” The flyer spoke, giving off a low yet venomous smile at the thought of getting to weaponize it for their own twisted means, and that wasn’t good news for Spencer.

    “They got a nuke, how lovely…” Muttered the white mech, who had been peeking from around the corner to eavesdrop. “That must be the same reactor looted from the Branson power plant, not sure if you heard about that incident on the news.” He’d comment, glancing down at the Mage.

  • There were times that Cassella would fold truths several times over just to cover, and then there were those moments that she can get quite honest, and nobody is truly ever prepared for her straight answers. Leave it to her to make the most peculiar truth sound like an elaborate piece of fiction. Whatever he'll do with that information is up to him, it seemed. That library offered that pleasant peace and quiet that both of them appreciated, and yet even approached with the lightest of demeanor, this subject remained turbulent. "When you come to care about some old friends along the way, seeing them kick the bucket changes a lot of things. I think anyone with decent sense will try what they can to prevent that..." Even with the comfort of that handmade album that she was worrying in her hands, her expression just turned dark. "I've seen a place that hopeless, but at least this time it wasn't caused by me." 

    Or was it? 

    Finally staring up at him, she just had to take a double look. Whatever she saw, perhaps that was enough to clear the rising storm in that face. “You look like you’re expecting me to crack a joke or something,” she chuckled accusingly. Spencer gave her an impression of a very well composed man, and to see a good range of expression on his face in a span of a few moments was probably one of the best highlights of this entire arrangement. “I can’t blame you. Time is a very weird thing to mess around with. It's even worse if it picks you.” A part of her wished that this was merely spun for the fun of it or at least the half-truth. Maybe they didn't have to go through all the trouble of planning the grand scheme of things, the people they lost, and all the injuries that they received. All the memories that were still plaguing them until now, that even when she had been at her happiest, it was completely bittersweet. 

    Were there things that she wished she did differently? A little too many to count. Just like the very thing that she was holding, that entire arc that came to a close left her as a scrapbook of scars.

    All that’s left for her now was to observe the myriad of expressions on his face. The way he gazed at the flipped pages, the way Spencer finally focused on the man in question. While her breath almost hitched in her throat, this eased almost instantly. A reminder, that's all it was, and perhaps, ever will be. Cassella didn’t seem to be disappointed, already anticipating that the chances of serendipity are typically rather slim. For the few times that she ever held bitterness to chance, this isn’t one of those. In fact, this discourse actually felt good in a way. Recollection always has that gentle warmth, when memories were all that they have. "It's reasonable to get swept up in all that chaos if your life is on the line." At that moment, she found some sort of peace regarding the matter, whatever amount of peace that this can offer. “You’d think that with all this technology it’ll make our lives easier. After taking down the man responsible they have to lay down low for a while. It somehow caused a lot of noise that I can't be the only one who’s tracking them now.” 

    Something in the tone of her voice would say that she might have discovered this in less than favorable circumstances. In all honesty, that actually sounded like a complaint for someone who seemed to adore this ever-progressive concept of technology, until his next statement actually caught her off-guard. A sudden flush of deep scarlet gracing a face so pale would always be noticeable, no matter how fleeting, rivaling whatever hint of sunburn that she was already dealing with. Kind isn't the word that she'd always hear from anyone. "Huh. I'm expecting to hear that it was half-assed, like always..." Cassella sheepishly averted her eyes back into the page that she was absentmindedly turning. There was one small polaroid photograph of this same raven-haired woman from earlier, cautiously peeking out of a large cardboard box that she was cooped up in. There was one of Gleeon dozing on a worn-down sofa, a rainbow of scribbles on his face drawn by wobbly sharpies. Both were dated and labeled, in the format of a museum caption. She finally cleared her throat. “I’m overloading you with information, aren’t I?” Cass quietly snorted, shaking her head. "Makes me feel like I'm dumping all this baggage on you! Who does he remind you of, if you don't mind me asking? Did you happen to have friends who were raised by dragons, too?"




    ||I'm always jelly over your new profile pics hnggnghh

  • At first, the sea drake didn’t really notice much of a reaction from him, aside from what felt like a minor flinch on him. All of a sudden, he saw it: What resembled some sort of spirit that came out of the Rider from accidentally startling him. This immediately made him snap his head around to see what was going on and if the man was okay.

    Seeing that expression, the aquatic male’s worried look shifted into a wide, uncontrollable grin as he lightly snorted from holding back a cackle. As much as he wanted to ask about what that was, the Dovah was far more concerned about their upcoming findings. Perhaps it was something they could discuss later if there was a safe place to rest.

    . . .

    Following Irrlith’s brief instructions on where they should go next, it wouldn’t take him very long to notice another passage, which already had him curious. Making a sharp descent, Tempest quickly swam towards it at a sixty-degree angle, wanting to find out what other secrets this supposedly abandoned territory was hiding.

    When arriving at the tunnel’s entrance, said aquatic male ceased most movement. His emerald hues rotated and glanced at the various runes surrounding them, and it could only mean one thing: They were on the right path, and who knows what could be waiting on the other end. At this point, his mind was running wild with possibilities, thinking of what wonders could be on the other side, hopefully, no angler drakes this time.

    “Did you just-” Slowly turning his head around upon hearing the man’s words in his thoughts, he decided to dismiss it for now and continue on with their journey. “Let’s just go.” Giving their unearthly friend a moment to catch up a little, his tail swayed once more, propelling them forward again. The oceanic reptile soon picked up speed while keeping himself centered in the cavern to avoid colliding with any rocks, wishing to scout ahead. Every other moment or so, he would halt in order for Irrlith to keep up so they wouldn’t be without protection.

    “Whatever it is, I think we’re close.” Said the wingless drake, who spoke normally despite the fact they were literally underwater, a natural trait/ability that always came in handy. With all this in mind, he simply moved further ahead before speaking to Spencer again while facing forward.

    “If something goes wrong with your breathing spell, I might have a trick where I can separate oxygen from hydrogen in the water, and just give you the air. Not sure it’ll work with how much can go wrong.”

  • “Well-loved is a good one,” Cassella nodded. Gleaming silver eyes spanned what she could, and up close, the section of the place where they are was just as ornate and imposing. Only a few doves met her eyes, staring down from their roosts up the crannies of the higher carvings. “There’s never a shortage of galleries and museums in this city, too. Should you ever want to look at that one of these days, just let me know.”

    As the doors finally opened for entry, she briefly stopped and shook her head. A brief look was cast around, nothing really seemed out of place. Even Spencer just fitted right in, already going for the reception as soon as they were inside. Without any further thought, Cass stepped further in, with that usual contagious grin on her face.

     . . . 

     At the mention of a very familiar name, Cassella couldn’t help but blink at the question, momentarily pausing on her spot. She wasn't far off to the right, in fact, she was cautiously teetering on a step ladder just to return one book at the higher part of the shelf. A refresher regarding a few things was where she was at, initially hoping to take a few copies before the afternoon was over. “How I knew him? It was… a weird occurrence. There was chaos.” She dipped her head to one side, pursing her lips slightly. “Well, all the best people I’ve ever met were through some weird sort of predicament one way or another so there’s that.”

    The young woman didn't seem to hold any reservation or hesitation in recalling what she could. If anything, the brief pause was with her trying to find the best way she can put this all together, not sure where to start on a story that perhaps knew no linear time. Oh, it went beyond, she already knew snippets about the man even before they met. Even before a friend had him as a child. Even before she is what she is now. "I had to deal with a vision that I received many years ago. Most people will just dismiss my ramblings as someone under the influence which I was… but when a fragment of a future and the past say something similar you just know you’re into something you can't ignore anymore. I initially didn’t want to give more than two fucks about some prophecy that ruined my life once, but I spent the last years running around anyway, rekindling ties with old allies just in case. Eventually, I got in touch with an old friend, a sea drake named Mel. We traveled around together, checking through the surviving landmarks of an old empire we’re once part of. One of these places was a prison of an old enemy. We got there just in time-- somebody already managed to breach through old boundaries and was already sending armed people to excavate the place. We have to fight our way through. Then they just came, out of nowhere.” 

    “This poor guy-- Gleeon and his siren girlfriend were flung through one future and back, then tossed in the middle of the hysteria where we’re at.” She quickly settled one thin volume back to where it was, rifling through her things just to trade it for another as she made a quick descent from her perch. From her bag, she produced a black worn-out book, most likely leatherbound by hand. It looked significantly different from where she was writing before. As she hurriedly flipped through the papers, one would finally notice that its contents were far from mere scripts. There were faded stickers. Feathers. Ornate cutouts leaped from the pages. There were tiny mementos of things pressed and pasted all over, and photographs. A small scrapbook shrewdly disguised as an old book for her to carry around finally depicted a recent photograph of a man and his presumed partner, both of them candidly grinning at each other in a moment that seemed stolen. A slightly older man of dark hair, pale skin, iridescent gold eyes, and dark sclera that almost looked reptilian. “Here, I wonder if you’ve ever seen a man like this in your recent travels? We fought side by side. He saw many of the same things I’ve seen… lived through it, even. I was supposed to find him, but he found me. He insisted on freeing a winged hydra that day, out of someone’s advice that Draven will play a vital role in the war that he was trying to wage, so I relented. Not like we have any other choice anyway. The very next day we tried to convince an old empress to join us. His mother wasn't so happy with the arrangement. I tagged along with this odd little family of his and helped around the place as a standing counselor, governess, and clinic personnel, we had the same enemy after all.”

    “He’s perhaps one of the most selfless people I knew, even when he tried so hard not to be one. I still blame his mother for raising him as such. But hey, I can't blame her when she finally got it right. I paved the way, and he took it.” While she seemed to ridicule this, there was the obvious wistful hint of respect. Of pride. Someone so genuinely expressive couldn’t really hide whatever laced that. “He helped me with a lot of things I never knew I’d have to deal with. Gave me things I never thought I’ll get to have. In fact, he will help almost anyone, even those who tried to stab him before. Can’t expect anything less from a man who took in some dragons and an entire brood of sirens around for company in a ship.” Cassella’s voice was mellowed down, but from how her face glowed-- she wasn’t just illustrating a person of status or a leader, she was describing a friend. A glow that dimmed so quickly regardless of how it gradually built up.

    “I just hope Exoria or at least one of the girls is with him, wherever the hell he is. It would suck if she wasn't, the last time we talked he was already getting withdrawals from siren song. We were trying to curb that.”

  • Brona was fully ready for a tussle, but as roots rise and tangle the feet of her opponents, she loosens her stance and gawks. Her eyes wide, she glances around in bewilderment. 

     

    A shiver runs down her spine as she catches sight of the stranger responsible for such a feat. She glances down at her feet to make sure they're still mobile. His urgency to run spikes her adrenaline, and she prepares to bolt. Before lifting a foot off the ground she hears the laughter. 

     

    She scoffs, turning to face the leader of the thieves and rolling her eyes. "I ain' no princess, but aye know not ta trust a thief." She clenches and unclenches her fists. With the thieves unable to move, she could easily clobber them. 

     

    Remembering the mage's urgency, she turns to leave with him. Glancing him over once more, she figures he can't be that scary. The result of that skirmish gave her confidence in his comradery so perhaps he would be willing to help her. If he tries anything he surely breaks like a twig under those robes.

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