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+ S P E N C E R +




Traveler.   Magician.     Dragon Rider.     Swordsman.   Librarian.

H u m a n  //  E l f

A g e l e s s - U n k n o w n

H e / H i m  T h e y / T h e m

S p i r i t ?  D e c e a s e d .

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




You might be wondering how this could have happened… 

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


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

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


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






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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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


And so we march on.

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

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




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


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

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




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

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



  And so, I learned to walk tall... 

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

Travelers.   Friends.   Mentors.    Comrades. 




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




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





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




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





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




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




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




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



 Until we meet again.  



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




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




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







[OOC: 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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  • “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.

  • Even after they were nice and secure on the brute’s back, there was still a great sense of tension, enough to make him frequently glare behind them for any sneak-attacks. At that moment, it was decided that Tempest wasn’t going to use echo-location, not for a long time at least so their location wouldn’t be given away. Eventually, he just plopped his head down onto the male’s upper spine with a huff.

    Feeling something knock on his scales, the wingless reptile quickly elevated and snapped his gaze towards their six, only to glance down and notice Spencer pointing the other way. Dismissing his paranoia, he turned to face forward again, already narrowing his jade hues at the overhead glow, which got brighter as they went. To him, it meant only one thing: They were on the right course, they just had to reach it now and avoid trouble.

    . . .

    The journey didn't feel too long, mostly due to a combination of his mind being all over the place, and him taking advantage of those long moments to rest, but without falling asleep entirely. By this point, he'd been losing track of time.

    Later on, something did catch his attention: the gradual shift in temperature. We're they somehow nearing the surface again? No, that wouldn't explain how the surrounding pressure on their bodies was still the same. Strangely enough, the illuminated runes had ceased, and he was already on edge again with having this much darkness be prevalent. At the same time, something else was glowing on the far end, what was it?

    Once they reached the open expanse, Tempest’s gaze widened, awestruck by what they had just discovered. The amount of warm-blooded creatures that were up and about was nothing short of astonishing. Both corners of his maw rose up to form a low yet enthusiastic grin of excitement at what they had just found. Eager to see what was emitting all this light, all four claws were placed firmly on Irrlith’s back before pushing himself up and off, swaying his tail immediately after.

    Approaching a nearby ledge overlooking the pit, the sea drake descended and landed on its surface. His head leaned over, fixating himself on the massive heat source below. Using the end of his finned tail to nudge Spencer’s shoulder and get his attention, a middle nail from his right talon would flick at a smaller rock, sending it tumbling over the edge and descending down into the inferno below.

    Hauling himself up and kicking off the ledge’s surface, said aquatic reptile swam up diagonally towards Irrlith’s position, only to straighten out and follow the outer perimeter of the clearing, glancing around for any additional pathways, or something that could be of great interest. To the rider’s surprise, he actually spoke words underwater, despite being slightly muffled from how it came out.

    “There’s got to be more!”

  • No matter how many ice shards he nailed it with, that monstrosity was dead set on getting Spencer, but why? His assumption would’ve been that someone his size wouldn’t offer enough meat to such a massive predator and not have any interest. All he could think of was that this beast was somehow aware of what the rider was, or perceived him as a threat. Sadly, they had no time to theorize about it, his life was at stake.

    As their foe attempted to force its way inside those skeletal remains, Tempest pushed himself off his makeshift bastion using both feet and quickly swayed his tail to zip over. All nails on his feet protruded out more, ready to get up close and personal with this leviathan if need be. Fortunately, he didn’t have to travel far to reach it.

    With a crackle was heard, the sea drake came to a halt, widening his hues as part of the dragon’s bone structure caved in right on top of it. A cluster of bubbles suddenly parted from his maw at the realization that it was immobilized from its own mistake, gotcha, he thought. This presented him with an opportunity, rescue their friend and deal another hit while it was down.

    Not wanting to waste his only chance, said reptile immediately closed in on the far side of its face, avoiding its mouth so there’d be minimal risk of it reaching over and snapping at him. In hopes this’ll either deter another attack or create a weakness for their next match, Tempest began rotating himself at an increasing rate. Once enough speed was gain, his finned tail came down upon its left eye, smashing it with the momentum he had. After the initial impact, one of his front claws curled into a fist and struck it again without mercy. Once finished, a number of clicks would follow.

    ‘Go bother someone else.’

    Having heard the brute’s growl in his head, the young reptile quickly swam up to retrieve Spencer and nudge him onto his upper back, giving him a moment to grab on. Should he take hold, said aquatic male would speed away straight for Irrlith’s position, where he’d join the extraterrestrial beast at his side, briefly turning his head back towards the angler drake, and back to their ally as he followed him.

    ‘Could you make out any speech from that thing?’

    Shortly after conveying a question via clicks, Tempest paddled up and turned left, soon descending upon Irrlith’s upper spine away from his tendrils. For his own safety and the rider’s, he took hold of his scales, now riding upon his back. Both front legs held onto him if the brute allowed them to remain there.

  • (Hey thanks for accepting, love your profile!)

  • In the midst of trying to spot their foe again, it didn’t take long for the lesser sea drake to notice something: Their friend was in trouble, most likely from the spell being disrupted was his best guess. His heart skipped a beat, all blood ran cold at the thought of possibly losing him. Now how in the world could he or Irrlith possibly hope to save Spencer from drowning with how deep they were? They couldn’t, the surface was far beyond their reach, and finding an air pocket was out of the question.

    Fuck it.

    ‘Cover me!’ Against his better judgment, he clicked aloud towards their extraterrestrial ally a few seconds in advance and pushed off of his ice platform, quickly swaying his tail to accelerate. Before even getting to him, Tempest ceased all movement and drifted to a halt when seeing Spencer’s form return to normal, in addition to him moving on his own once more without panicking. A long exhale of bubbles through both nostrils followed as he quickly turned and bolted back to his ice fortress.

    Time to wait for its next move.

    . . .

    Moments later, his head snapped in the direction of the dragon’s remains, fixating himself on where Spencer assumed cover. In both palms of his talons, water began compressing and freezing over into long, cone-shaped spikes made from compact ice, which shouldn’t melt as quickly from running water. Nearly a dozen were made and levitated above him, carefully adjusting his aim according to Irrlith’s vision.

    To deter the angler drake from devouring their friend, two were thrown forward by tugging on the water molecules, both moving at high speeds towards said creature. With one to two seconds in between, Tempest would launch more, attempting to spam them while creating more simultaneously. Even if these couldn’t pierce its scales, it’d still be the equivalent of being hit by rocks from a slingshot for their opponent.

    Part of him was really hoping one of his ice spikes would either take out an eye or lodge one in its gills. At the very least he wanted to draw its attention away from Spencer.

  • - One of these days I'll get the Lorem Ipsum off my page. -

  • As Brona turned to continue down the path, the bolas that snared her ankles caught her by surprise. She stumbles, and as another set of bolas wraps around her torso she promptly falls onto her face. She couldn't see much of anything, except her captors' feet. She groans, partially from the pain of falling, partially from the disruption of her travels. She needed to reach the next village as swiftly as possible. 


    She listens to the conversation, trying to gauge whether she could take them on or not. They were right, she didn't have money. Then she realizes, "Aye! If ya know ah'm poor why ya still takin' me?" She frowns as the stranger tries to lift her. She is heavier than she looks, a man of normal strength would have great difficulty. Whether he drops her or not, she gives her best thrashing, kicking the ankles of the nearest captor. 


    As she struggles, the bolas around her arms and legs snap, and her eyes widen. Hopping up to her feet, she considers bolting, but decides to stand her ground and fight. She doesn't notice the flash of white, but she does glance up at the raven circling overhead. Wiping the dirt from her face, she widens her stance, glaring into the darkness to count how many she was up against. If there were guards coming perhaps she just had to hold them off for a bit. 


    "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?’

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"The silence was nerve-racking until the woman returned and shut the house door for good. She had…"
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"Despite the trials of the labyrinth behind them, Spencer’s heart rate felt like it hadn’t caught a…"
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"The vibrations were drawing closer. Spencer could feel it through his boots and observe it along…"
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"There was a pause of silence as all parties stared, both likely bewildered at the sight. Spencer’s…"
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"The air was cool around the man as the water rolled in, lapping against the rusted hulls of giants…"
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"Following the short phase, the haphazard expression on the Rider’s face was always meant to be…"
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"A sigh of relief left the man when the spell had taken its root on the men. He made himself known…"
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"Little by little Spencer’s heart rate found normal again. Had it not been for the other two being…"
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