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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

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... 


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 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 tome 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.



  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: Happy 2021... or, hopefully tamer 2021.] 


+ Active Threads :

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

Cassella  | Melbourne, bed and breakfast  |  "We just might be able to breathe."

Brona |  Walking,  forest   |  "None too far until the next village."

Raiya |  passing notes via messenger bird   |  "It has been entirely far too long, old friend."


- Inactive Threads :

Caelestra |  Birdie's Emporium  |  "Oof-"

Nemo |  New York City   |  "Pardon my dropping in."


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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    "Whatever that happened way back is still a part of who you are. It's natural to think it over. Can't blame you if you get frustrated, even." Eyes squinted up to the ivory ceiling and the sunshine patterns up above from the drawn curtains. Her voice was almost whisper-thin, and from that tousled bundle of fabric, her expression was unreadable. Isn't it the point of it all? To make better memories than what they once had? How peculiar it is to find someone who wishes so badly to remember when there were many things in her history that she wouldn't miss if they were stolen away. "It's like looking for the you that you barely met. You just know that they never really left but they're still out of reach." From that very quiet rustling, she turned slightly to take a good look at him. "What if it's something that you find less than pleasant? Will you still want it?"

    Gauging from how introspective he seemed, he might have asked himself that question countless times over and debated all the things that could have been. He has eternities to think it over. Whatever answer Spencer may have or the lack of thereof, when it comes to matters like these, Cass isn't one to push it. In a way, she was there to at least make things a bit easier, not to make it harder than it already was. Based on his words, optimism truly goes a long way in moments like this. She was just about to agree when both eyebrows twitched up. Perhaps his gratitude still caught her off guard. "The real work is just about to start, Spencer, I'm not even sure if I'd get through..." Yet as her voice trailed off, it was that sort of companionable silence that she didn't instantly break. At the same time, this man also agreed to help with a favor she asked right after they just met. "If someone else is in that position, I figured you'd try to help out all the same."

    With the map taken into the inventory and with a very expectant Cass looking quite satisfied, she pulled herself up to her feet. "You really just perk up whenever libraries are mentioned. Let's go," she chuckled. She barely bothered to smoothen out a few tufts of pale curls that stuck out. Once more, her trusty hat was upon her head as she made her way to the door, a bag slung back on her shoulder where it just seemed to belong. "Do you have an ID with you? Oh man-- I haven't even asked for your number yet. Unbelievable."  


    . . .


    It couldn't be denied that off-peak hours were the best times to head out. Trams and sidewalks seemed far more spacious than usual. Each stop brought in new folk that promptly left and dispersed. On their way there, nothing stuck out of the ordinary, including the two who just seemed fine blending in. The woman can chat up a storm if she wished, it seemed, a master of small talk to random unsuspecting strangers that were more than happy to engage, all who will eventually forget her as soon as they are gone.

    It only became a busier on the time they arrived at the vicinity, given that it was surrounded by all sorts of shopping malls and a variety of stores. The weather still seemed a bit crisp that early afternoon, however, the sunlight a little too harsh for the liking of someone who typically roams alone by sundown. She'll probably reap the repercussions later, as always. Cass was just too preoccupied with all the excitement and the sights to huff a complaint, and yet the exposure already showed through warm patches of uneven scarlet on her face.


    According to the young woman, the place was one of the continent's oldest libraries, with the aesthetic of the structure to match. Several years of renovation has resulted in a fully restored neoclassical masterpiece containing an assortment of books, research materials, down to the legacy of cultural resources that it exclusively held. The great ornate dome loomed just behind the delicate entrance of columns and colorful banners. Sculptures of bronze and stone sparsely decorated the trimmed exteriors-- all of them, weathered by time and mildly laden by dust, yet still just as stately. The benches and the shaded patches of the lawns were moderately occupied, either by flocks of birds or by man, and from the road, the place was never short from a good amount of passersby.

    As soon as they were there, Cassella didn't waste much time scurrying to the wide flight of stairs until the entrance was reached, as fast as those sprightly little feet can offer. Nevermind the other guests just exiting the place and others who were still hurrying to get inside, all of those hardly sparing them a glance. She stood up on her toes, craning her neck to take in as much as she could from that view. "It's nice to see that lots of stuff in this place didn't change..." Grinning, she shrugged. "Here we are, Spence. Books in every hall, some historical exhibits should still be around, too. There are directories available, it's kinda impossible to get lost inside."

    Though in a way, she guessed that if Spencer got lost wandering in there, he probably wouldn't mind.

  • It was at that moment when he realized that the weight of his friend couldn’t be felt anymore, and that spot on his back only felt the rushing of water. Glancing behind him, his horrified face gazed back to see Spencer get flung off from a heavy impact as it carried him along without the rider. His main concern at this rate was his safety, but perhaps this creature was only interested in Tempest? Spencer wouldn’t offer enough meat if its only intent was to feed.

    Just when the sea drake thought the worst was over, his head snapped back over to see it opening its jaws for him. All four claws preemptively released as the palms of his front talons produced a cyan glow, most likely something he intended to throw back at the leviathan to spare himself from being bitten in two. All he thought about in the moment was staring into the face of Death itself, and he wasn't confident about breaking free if that monster caught him in its jaws.

    The short-lived current created from both Irrlith’s tail and the creature abruptly moving threw him around slightly, having to halt his movements. With a sand cloud starting to rise up and obstruct his vision, Tempest quickly lowered himself down into the terrain and huddled there, keeping a close eye on his surroundings for any sign of that deep-sea terror.

    Soon, his claws gave off that same glow, just before the waters in front of them started to freeze solid. Said aquatic reptile spun himself around, creating a ring, then a donut, and a circular, yet jagged formation of ice, basically a spiked structure to deter their foe from charging at him. Once his creation was complete, his right palm began heating the water, so much that a misty sphere of steam was starting to form. Once the ball was large enough, he held onto it, hoping to use it as an explosive projectile should that serpentine menace give him the chance.

    For now, he simply laid on top of his little ice bunker, waiting to see if it would strike again. As much as the water drake wanted to go rescue Spencer, he was more than likely better off being in his own spot until this dual was over, no need to put him at risk since it probably saw him as the least biggest threat.

    Not long after, the azure scaled Dovah clicked to their ally once more. ‘Where’d he go?... And what did that thing just say?’

  • In less than ten minutes of being in the place, the woman was already puttering about. To and fro, she went with her small inspection. She teetered on her toes, poking her nose in and out of the small empty fridge or the cupboards. Anything she can open or close, a feature of that space that she can get her restless hands around was examined. For a moment there was only the sound of hinges creaking, a door opening and closing, and some empty drawers being pulled out and pushed back, and a mildly excited "They even got extra towels!" coming from the bath. It was like some form of routine, with her bustling around, just checking anything worth finding in a space where many others before them had been and gone. Even the beds were carefully inspected, down to the empty spaces beneath them. It was almost like she was searching for something, probing fingers feeling about... only to be relieved that there was nothing to be found. When it seemed like every nook and cranny down to the windowsill corners were well-accounted for, that was the only time that she finally settled, plopping down on one of the two beds near the window. Indeed, it was perfect. That was the time that she finally agreed. For a while, they will be safe.

    "Why do I feel like you're the type of person who wouldn't complain-- even when there's something to be annoyed about?" Cassella sounded amused by that assumption. At that moment of laziness with her sprawled upon the quilts and her legs dangling at the edge of the bed, it almost looked calm and ordinary. Not the woman spouting peculiar things earlier in the train ride, or the one grilling him with questions in the cafe or someone else's dinner table. Just plain old Cass happily swaddled with newly laundered linen. "Makes me wonder if you were like that, too. Long ago. It doesn't change so much with me, not too sure about anyone else." As far as she knew a lot of things still stay, always with traces left of whatever there was in whatever there will be, but who knows? It doesn't seem like what he was saying earlier was forgotten even being nudged around in the racket of the outside world. That was one of the many things about the man that tugged at her all the way here. One being the fate of a friend he had mentioned earlier... most likely still heartbroken for the loss of someone so dear. 

    Devotion and worship locked in a reciprocated bond... shattered one fateful day upon the demise of the other. Nobody can truly expect anyone to simply recover from that.

    The other was how Spencer elaborated his experience of how he came to be. From the way he worded it... it almost sounded like death. The type of exhaustion that seeps deep into the bone, a breath stolen away and finally taken once more after a long while of stagnation. A revenant? If he's been around for so long doing his own thing, he doesn't seem to be bound to anything or anyone. Other than willingly being bonded to his dragon, of course, which only came ages after he awoke.

    But... why? What reason could be so important enough to literally pull someone back? All of these things just aroused more questions than actually filled in the gaps for answers. Perhaps that was the only time she realized that her curious stare had been boring through him longer than what was necessary. Silvery eyes blinked, and for a moment, she looked a bit surprised herself. The woman sat up, fingers breezing through her hair. "Ah, I almost forgot."

    Fishing through the depths of her bag and setting a few things aside, Cassella produced a thick, folded brochure wrapped in plastic, the glossy paper mildly creased and crinkled at the edges. It's nothing too elaborate, but it was a general map of the city. The winding main roads and the smaller streets in between, various spots highlighted where most visitors would typically flock and frequent. Some were sprawling botanical gardens, historical memorials, various markets, and clusters of museums and galleries. All the other essential places were marked with colors and symbols. "Somebody thought you might find a good use for this. Just because we can't go out at night doesn't mean you have to be locked in all day, too." She came to prefer the features of her phone's map over time, though there was a time when she was so invested in something handheld like this. Getting back up on her feet, she already passed it over. 

    "We still have a few good hours before sundown. I can start looking through the book if you like... though how does that library membership sound? We can always revisit it while we're here. It ain't far."

  • It was at that moment when the younger reptilian decided to examine the beast’s remains up close, just as Spencer propelled himself off his back. Despite not being confident in finding something, he turned and swam towards the creature’s side to begin searching for any damaged bones, anything that might help determine the cause of death for their would-be ally. The rib cage was the first place he checked, occasionally peeking inside of where its stomach would be. In hopes of finding other potential clues, he pushed himself off the sand and floated towards its tail.

    Regardless of whether he’d make any discoveries or not, the sea drake paddled both front legs to change direction and sway his finned tail to move forward, drifting back towards its snout. When seeing Spencer’s gestures, his head tilted out of confusion, only for a certain thought to suddenly strike him: Could it be him? Hopefully not since he anticipated that the rider would’ve sensed the passing of his partner in battle. Before any questions could be presented, he noticed the Rider easing down, and that brought a brief sense of relief.

    Knowing this was a gravesite, a deep inhale was taken in through both sets of gills, where he would then tilt forward and place both talons together. His head dipped, bowing to the remains of the fallen brute before him with both eyes closed. With his own respects paid towards the deceased, the azure-scaled reptile went back to hunting for clues, only this time he’d check around its upper neck.

    Initially believing those clicks to be coming from Irrlith, Tempest glanced back at him, only to rotate his eyes up. One long stare was given towards the school of lesser fish that were dispersing above them, freezing as they passed by. His heart skipped a beat when that ungodly shriek of terror fell upon his ears, which meant only one thing: It was back.

    Being quick to react this time, he bolted over and quickly nudged Spencer onto the base of his neck again. As the leviathan came charging in their direction, the much smaller sea drake bolted aside once more. If he was fortunate enough to get out of the way this time, he’d snap around and sway his tail to accelerate in the same direction their adversary was going, attempting to match its speed. In an effort to grab on, both front claws swung forward to try clasping its exterior. What Tempest planned to do from there has yet to be thought of, and this wasn’t his most brilliant idea.

    ‘Oh no you don’t!!’

    Perhaps if they could keep it from escaping this time, they’d at least be able to hit it back for once, or do as much damage as possible before its next retreat. Maybe if he could draw its attention away long enough, Irrlith might be given the chance to strike, assuming this thing wouldn’t flee again.

  • Brona didn't notice the strange man as she passed; caught up in her own thoughts as she was. Brona was unable to discern why she was still at full health. She watched as first one person, then a few, then soon the whole village fell ill. The sickness starts with a subtle cough. As the cough reddens the throat, the body rages with fever. Vomiting prevents the person from eating any morsel, which would help recovery. Finally, those that have died would sleep, barely waking to relieve themself, the color fading from their skin until they are white as a dove. The village was full of ghosts, and her parents would soon join them if she didn't hurry. 


    In her rumination she hadn't found a good place to rest, but no matter. The moon showered enough light for Brona to continue. She didn't hear the crunching, but as the silhouette flitted through her vision she paused. "Is someone there?" Her voice is thick and masculine, with a heavy accent that displays her farmgirl origins. Gripping the string of her sack, Brona glances around. 


    Perhaps she was imagining things. The noises continued, but she didn't see a thing. Perhaps it was a wild animal. Shaking her head, Brona continues down the path. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Every moment away from her parents was a gamble, for they could easily pass before she returned. 


    The raven caws in the distance. It could feel the misery and worry flooding through Brona's veins, and it was delicious. 


    Perhaps he understood her words on a different level than most will perceive it... or maybe it was simply the desperation of seeing things through. Give the poor guy a break, she figured. It's been less than twenty-four hours since they were on the run, and they have more hours ahead of them. A twitch of a smile tugged the corners of her lips as she glanced away, momentarily sweeping her gaze around. Barely twenty-four hours since they had a brush with possible death or grievous bodily harm, it seemed. 

    She can use a bit of a breather too.

    So there she was, the young woman quietly led along by his words until she spared a moment to look up at him. "Your past? Did you happen to lose some of it?" Her voice was soft, eyebrows twitching upward. She seemed mildly concerned, though not about to push the matter. It wasn't a very uncommon occurrence if one has lived long enough to forget a significant few. Was the dragoness curious as well to leave an arsenal of things for him to keep and uncover, or perhaps knew something he didn't? At the moment, there didn't seem to be any way of knowing. Her attention to him was now undivided, twitching slightly at the thought of a library somewhere, still bearing a lot of history that most at the present would overlook. "I'm sorry. For beings that live for so long, sometimes it's almost impossible to imagine them finally resting on their terms. Is she bonded to someone as well?" The natural passing of one isn't something that anyone can simply witness.

    And to those that she knew of... she almost doesn't want to keep it in mind if that would mean their disappearance for centuries or forever. 

    Loss was a very demanding thing, a gaping hole nagging to be felt at each opportunity it could grasp, worming its way in any crevice it could find. It was a very interesting metaphor-- knowing and feeling that they're still out there distances away, only to remain unheard. Bound? Dreaming? Untethered? She didn't elaborate on that further or prodded even. While there were times through experience that hope has been quite vile, sometimes, that's all they truly have. The hope that all lost things will eventually be found. "It must have been wonderful... to be in the presence of someone so grand. I wish there's anything I can do to help you with it." But with the multiple failures she had on her own for the past year and the seekers sought to no avail, in a way she doubted that she could be of any assistance in that regard. Perhaps getting this dilemma about books and shadows out of the way to let him resume his search peacefully wouldn't be so bad, to begin with, if this attempt will bring any success at all.

    Cassella pondered on the rest of his words for a moment, rubbing her chin. When was the last time she disclosed the details of her search on a more personal level? She tried to be objective with her findings as much as she can, trying not to appear too needy for a distraction. "Yes and no, I guess? I don't have that sort of bond to lead me anywhere-- I mean, I wish," she chuckled. It would have made her task worlds easier if she could only locate them since resources were at the least of her worries. There's only a search at hand and a dozen false leads. "I just promised. Colby believed that. When Oria told me that she cannot feel her sisters anymore, I told her to stay put or I might end up losing them again." Whatever cheer that lilted her voice somehow faded. Shoulders gradually shrugged as a low sigh was heaved. At the end of the day aren't they all just searching for something? Friends, family, a home, or a fragment that they lost. "Then there's this guy-- his name is Gleeon. He finished an old job that I should have done long ago and I owe it to him. I don't think I would be able to deliver my end of the bargain for a very long time, but bringing everyone together again might help make up for that. It cost them a lot... I regret not thanking them near enough for what they've done."

    She still had a few people to fall back on, perhaps it wasn't entirely a lost cause. She wondered about Spencer's case. It's still too early, too sunny-- too warm of a weather to be diving into something this dreary. She finally fished out her battered phone, showing him the lineup of things she has been searching for earlier. It was a bunch of places from several different sites, all strung together in a haze of tabs and applications for a full comparison. "By the way, some of the old places I've been in are all booked, but I think I found our next stop..."


    . . .


    Just exiting the train itself will send anyone adrift with all the others making their way in and out of the main station, all in messy lines of blurry faces and clothes. Cassella personally has no worries of losing her new travel buddy in all that haze -- Spencer was perhaps the palest person around other than her which makes him a very easy man to find. A few glances about for proper signs and she was happily off, making sure not to lose him around regardless. To her, he just seemed to be the type of person fading in and out of nowhere.

    While the first city they've been in was already populated, this place was boasting the pulse of its life in every way possible. Every main road was teeming with people and traffic. From tourists either singled out on their own or roaming around in groups, locals weaving their way in and out of shopping precincts that were always wide open, and those who seemed on the rush, only there for a second and gone the next. The appearance of the area just seemed to reflect the constant clash between the transient and the enduring -- contemporary architecture peppered by the preserved aesthetics of the old. Statues on the sidewalks seem to tell history of its own. Larger walls have their assortment of street art in various forms-- as Cass would word it, always different from the last time she was there. So much chatter, color, and so much noise, that even in that shifting weather, change was the only thing that was ever constant.

    In a way, it was almost intimidating-- even for someone who has set foot on the place many times before. A few stops from stores here and there, and she was good to go.



    Fifteen to twenty minutes deep into the heart of the eastern district was a quaint little place that still offered decent accommodations for those running around doing their last-minute reservations. Cassella typically held some form of preference on places she had been, yet the place still held its charm and character that she couldn't complain at all. It was a little victorian villa sitting in a busy street, renovated into a fully equipped bed and breakfast, with hosts more than happy to take in a bunch of weary travellers who were either there for a purpose for a couple of nights or just aimlessly running around the city with an indefinite time of stay. The woman figured that they're probably somewhere in between. They had a purpose, their time is unspecified, they're running around and away.

    Their designated suite was just a floor upstairs-- a compact place of ivory white walls and fluffy carpets furnished with the essential furniture and appliances, with a sitting kitchenette and a small table at one corner and a door leading to the restrooms at the other. The section where the beds were located didn't seem to fall behind the style either-- walls decorated with paintings and large windows strewn with sheer curtains. Overall, it was simple, but there was more than enough space for two people to get by. 

    And it was nice to get away from the streets after a while.


    "So, what do you think?"


    It was a very general question spoken out of the blue from a woman who's still buzzing with excitement for the early noon. Was it about the place, the city, about the entire arrangement, whether or not they will be safe in here or what? Cass wasn't entirely sure herself as she inspected the common area. But they're somewhere. Perhaps that counts.


  • Shortly after checking on more pillars for potential clues, the aquatic reptile paused once more to focus on the vision. Once finished, he kept close to the brute and continued on, making a mental note of the warning he provided. Hopefully, it would be a while before their adversary will strike again.

    . . .

    Throughout their trek into the greater depths of that trench, there was no shortage of scenery to examine. Nearly each and every stone they could find on their path was inspected for any engraved writings, hopefully, Spencer could translate such since he anticipated it being in a long-forgotten language.

    Moments later, Tempest began to notice an increasing amount of brightness the further they went. As they ventured deeper into what could only be described as an open space within the forest of stones, which reminded him of an arena from one of those video games a friend of his used to play. The idea of exposing themselves in such an open area was unsettling to think about. Since Irrlith didn't give any type of warning, it must've been safe, for now at least.

    Deciding to investigate whatever their cosmic ally was fixated on, the sea drake swayed his tail side-to-side motion for movement. As they closed in, the first thing he noticed was a menacing set of fangs, large enough to bite him in two. At first, his heart sank into his chest, already feeling prepared to flee back towards Irrlith’s direction. Before doing so in the midst of his pause, the younger beast realized it wasn't moving. Upon closer inspection after he swam further, he realized it was nothing more than the deceased remains of another creature. 

    'What happened here?' In an attempt to seek an answer as to what its fate was, Tempest relayed a question via clicks. A good minute or two was spent swimming around its maw, searching for any damaged bones that might give an idea as to what brought it down. After reaching its snout, he glanced back to look upon their surroundings until something struck him: It most likely didn't perish here on the seafloor, no. Instead, the water drake theorized that its corpse coming down must've flattened the terrain, especially with its size.

    This was perhaps the largest crime scene he had ever stumbled across.

  • It was a dreary November afternoon, a thick layer of clouds hung over the city, the tops of  skyscrapers dissolved within it, as frigid wind blew through the streets and rain threatened to fall. Perfect weather for a walk. The albino teenager's skin and eyes had trouble under sunlight, which resulted in wearing a hoodie, sunglasses, and a black umbrella. However, on days like these, he settled for a light raincoat. Years ago, the boy was conscious of people staring at him, but he came to realize there are more outlandish looking people than him. Nemo would take Tundra to a nearby park, and was on his way back when a guest entered his apartment.

    The apartment was dark when the man had entered, and it was roughly the same since his last visit. The empty dog bed was enough insight as to where the boy possibly was. It was roughly ten minutes later that the thudding footsteps of a canine were heard, followed by his. No key was needed, and he didn't neeed to be by the door, yet for any spectators he would have to at least stand in front of his door with a hand over the lock, but the lights flicked on inside the apartment before he came to the door. When the door opened, Nemo jumped slightly at the presence of the ghost, but eased quickly once he recognized him. "Spencer!" Tundra was at first hesitant, having not seen the man in three years, and with no discernable smell, but after she had Tundra gave a more eager greeting. 

    Nemo wasn't quite sure how to approach him, having spent a full day with the man when Nemo was more nervous about the world. Besides the fact the boy could now hold full eye contact, he had grown slightly taller, his hair wasn't as long as Spencer's but just as unkempt, and he didn't wear any muted color clothing as he used to. Was a handshake or a hug even necessary, he thought to himself.

    "Please sit." Nemo would say if he hadn't already, as he took off his shoes and raincoat. He wore a grey tank top and red plaid joggers, Tundra did so besides Spencer. "How've you been? Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?" Could Spencer consume it? He couldn't remember if he had last time, Nemo thought as he sat in a chair opposite to Spencer.

  • Brona hurries down the forest trail toward the settlement on the other side of the mountain. A plague abused her village, and a majority of its inhabitants were either diseased and dying, or already dead. When her parents took ill, Brona knew she needed to find a healer, a mage, or anyone who could help cure the sickness. Gathering meager rations and supplies in a small sack, Brona scrambled down the path to the next village as fast as her legs could take her. But soon she would have to stop for the night. Brona's grey eyes scan the forest for a good place to stop, continuing to jog. 


    She wore her red hair in a loose messy braid, a tattered brown skirt that fell to her calves, wool pants underneath, worn darkened leather boots, a faded dark green vest lined with fur, and a yellowed shirt, the sleeves a bit too short. 


    A deep black raven flew overhead. Any normal human wouldn't be able to see it, but it was part of the scenery for Brona. Unfortunately for her, the demon spied on her since she was a babe, tickled silly by the turmoil that threatens her life on a daily basis. His actions often encouraged more bad luck to frolick through the demigoddess' life. All the while Brona was completely unaware.

  • From both of their perspectives, nearly the entire ocean itself passed by from how massive that predator was. After barely getting out of its way, his head darted over towards the direction it went, watching every move he could until the titanic beast coiled its own figure. At that moment, Tempest was expecting another imminent attack.

    For both a show of force and to deter another attempt on them, his jaws widely spread apart. What followed was a loud, deeper roar, though not as quaking as the serpentine leviathan. It was still enough to echo out for miles since the waters would carry the soundwaves. Given his lack of size compared to that monster, it'd be hard to intimidate it.

    Remembering they needed to stay close, the sea drake accelerated forward to make a beeline for Irrlith. Once they were in proximity, he'd float just a few feet apart from the side of his rib cage, in case they'd have to swim under him in an emergency. From there, his tail swayed to propel him at a slower speed, just to match the brute’s pace.

    . . .

    By this point in time, the wingless reptile wasn't so tensed up and on edge anymore but remained vigilant in listening for any sounds the Ocean might carry. The scenery was more than enough to catch his eye, each object was something that had to have been carved by smaller beings. Nearly every stone column they stumbled across was approached and closely inspected by Tempest for anything he could find, hopefully, another clue.

    All movement ceased when the vision was presented, letting himself drift a few feet forward as it played out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until that emblem was seen. Both emerald orbs widened slightly at the handiwork their unearthly friend had just found. 

    'We could try a long-range call and see if anybody still lives here. Bad idea?' The young drake proposed when looking to Irrlith, hoping for some sort of input on whether or not it was ill-advised for their safety. He halted and waited for him to complete his transformation, listening for whatever reply the brute might have. 

    It seemed like a wild gamble to speculate on the possibility of any sentient residents still being alive in the Water Nation. In Tempest’s mind, he imagined there being merfolk within the territory, as far fetched as it was. At the same time, the sea drake's wishful thinking was more prevalent on the presence of other aquatic dragons.

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Now all that's left is to write a thousand words. 
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