+ 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 .
x
“ 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.
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... ”
-Wip-
The book was a gift. He didn't know the importance at the time the dragoness gifted it into his hands. Skya spoke of the discovery in her collection, like it could offer the wandering spirit of a man all the answers he had been hunting for so long. Her eyes had seen something he has yet to find in its conflicting, cryptic pages. The book's author is unknown. As to the writing contained inside, one page to the next is a labyrinth of coded twists and turns that would leave any linguist or philologist perplexed. Over the years the man had all but given up on the object that sat dusty on the shelf over his workbench. It served as an old memory for a friend that had eventually passed on without granting him any more secrets on why she had given it to him in the first place.
“ It's always the furthest corner, the overlooked space... if history hasn't erased it.
Dark Arts and magical studies alike have not been a favorite of history. ”
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“ I'll finish the war I never knew I started. ”
On his person, there are a handful of items kept handy as a constant throughout the years. Spencer keeps a messenger bag slung over his shoulder that has considerable wear-and-tear to its edges. Despite it, the bag is laced with its own magical properties. Within it, a journal or two are usually kept to catalog what he comes across during his travel away from Nightwing, along with writing materials. Precariously, the longsword he carried as a Rider is hidden within the bag and can be pulled out at a moment's notice, defying the physics of the small bag when it appears in full. A small array of weapons and other survivalist material accompany it. A spare change of clothes or two is kept on standby. He keeps a spellbook handy with a series of useful spells, diagrams, incantations, and objects to assist, should he need them. He usually has a free-reading book, alongside the mysterious grimoire that has caused him misfortune over time. In more recent years, he also carries an outdated brick of a cell phone that he claims no expertise in using.
+ Now Carrying :
[The Water Nation Handbook] [Lore of The Invictus]
[The ??? Grimoire] [Traveler's Spellbook] [Field Notes]
“ And so, I learned to walk tall...
but I walked taller among them than I ever was alone. ”
Travelers. Friends. Mentors. Comrades.
TEMPEST
“ Spencer had his hands full from the moment he first encountered the Water Drake. He was traveling the coast of Nightwing when Tempest came barreling in, and proved to be the first sign of anything draconic that Spencer had seen in countless years. Tempest is considerably younger than the dragons the Ex-Rider had been accustomed to. While testing his patience at times, the Drake has sparked some life back in the melancholic rider after the years spent alone in the territory. The two have since teamed up in their traveling when Temp was not the only thing that washed up from the shore: with great fortune came great dangers when the threat of a tsunami means that something else is looming under the sea floor, threatening Nightwing's main land. The task of getting to the bottom of the disturbance has paired the two together, and effectively dragged Spencer out of his element. ”
CASSELLA
“ The woman had Spencer's utmost curiosity from the moment they spoke to one another. She was all the things he didn't expect to run into on accident, but in truth, Cass was someone wrongfully drawn into his troubles at a time when he might have needed her most. Following a run-in late at night at a library, the night was filled with mischief for survival-sake. It was also filled with chatter when he realized she was a linguist, scholar, mage, and plenty of other things he has yet to decipher. The two are now travel partners as she graciously offered her skills to help him in deciphering the book in his possession that has proven to be most dangerous. Spencer worries about the reprocaution of bringing another person into his personal troubles with the book. On the same token, so rarely does he travel with someone so formidible. ”
CAELESTRA
“ Cael was met by pure circumstances of walking by a park bench at the right time to hear a phone ring. After taking up the task of returning it to the rightful owner, he now finds himself in Birdie's Emporium where the quaint storefront holds its promises to anyone that walks in. Spencer can sense something is strange about the woman, but hasn't quite placed what it is yet. Only time will tell what [More to come]. ”
NEMO
“ The two met by chance during one of Spencer's rare visits to the city, where the library doors closed early and had locked the two in for the night. After becoming acquainted while sneaking back out using Spencer's abilities to do so, it took the walk back to the boy's apartment to decipher that the two had something in common. While Spencer had studied magic for a large portion of his life, Nemo's skillset held more promise than he could imagine at such a young age. Despite how long the two could have visited and chatted, their meeting was relatively short that night. Lone behold, the short meeting opened the door for a visit that would come a few years later when Spencer would need his assistance most [More to come]. ”
IRRLITH [NPC]
“ Irrlith was a visitor to Nightwing not from another continent, but from the outer edges of space. Not much is known about the beast aside from his origins being somewhere distant and the looming fact that Earth's gravity is what trapped him here after a crash landing many, many years ago. The space beast has taken up refuge in the territory after conflict with humans and remained for quite some time under the Earth Nation's ground when Nightwing grew dormant. That was, until recently, when Spencer and Tempest woke the behemoth from its slumber in order to help them with the task of keeping the beast's second home safe. Not much is known about Irrlith's origins or biology, but he seems to have a sense of trust toward Spencer who is always looking for what he can learn about the brute. ”
RAIYA
“ Raiya will forever be Spencer's best friend when it comes to two-legged kind. She resided in Nightwing well before he ended up there, and the two grew attached at the hip once Spencer had taken the oath as a Rider. Having once been one herself, she was responsible for much of his advice while training, as well as the swordsmanship he honed during that era. The two have fought, struggled, and laughed, and are always up to something when they cross each other's paths. Rai has since moved on from the territory and runs her supernatural shop known as Omnia. Spencer pays a visit on sparse occasions, allowing the two to pick up their friendship right where it leaves off. Time has changed how often they might see one another, but some things never change. ”
CLOUDFEATHER
“ No practitioner of magic is complete without a loyal familiar. Cloudfeather is a leucistic red tailed hawk that can often be seen in off in the distance whenever Spencer finds himself far enough from the cities for her to follow. The raptor is capable of flying miles on end when needed to deliver messages in times of need, or exchanges between Raiya and Spencer when they find themselves apart. Cloudfeather has a seemingly mystical connection with the man, when no matter where his travels take him she is bound to find where he is once called. The bird is clever beyond its appearance and reliable beyond measure. She leaves his side only when delivering, occasionally switching roles with Raiya's own hawk, Cyr. ”
ZORIKO
“ Having first gotten to know Zoriko as a hatchling, she is the daughter of Skya and a dragon of the sky underneath her human facade. The dragoness was someone Spencer had the privlege of re-acquainting with after his absence from the territory when she actively sought him out following the advice of another former Rider. After re-acquainting from when she was young, Spencer took upon himself the task of teaching her magic from the ground up, helping the young dragoness tap into the magic that flows through her veins just as his own mentor did for him. After some time of training together, the two eventually parted ways. To this day he hasn't seen Zoriko again, but thinks back to their magic lessons together fondly when it was a time that his house didn't seem quite as empty. ”
“ Until we meet again. ”
CHANOOK
“ To this day, Spencer still looks back in wonder to the moment where he had been asked to become a Rider. His partner was none other than Chanook, a dragon of rolling thunder and electricity that stood as a general among war beasts in Nightwing. While others knew him as a goliath, to his Rider, he was a lumbering beast at times and above all, his guardian and most trusted friend. The two spent their days in close proximity and fought wars by one anothers' side. Following the last conflicts of the territory, the two became separated and the man has carried a hole in his chest ever since. Spencer still believes that Chanook is out there due to the feint, yet present connection between the two that has not yet been severed. As a result, he has an occasional knack for dropping what he is doing at the slightest hint of a lead toward his whereabouts. ”
SKYA
“ Spencer saw much of the dragoness during the height of Nightwing, down unto the end. Sibling to Chanook, Skya was second in command to the Empress and was a formidable force come times of conflict. However, Spencer knew her first and foremost by the library hidden deep within her den near the center of the territory. He was a trusted visitor over time and has been responsible for the upkeep and mending of the books within it for countless years. He knows every main twist and turn to reach the hidden collection, down to the dragoness' den. Since her passing, the room has erupted with plant life, where she remains in a shrine-like state to present day. He vows to keep up his work of guarding the collection under her keep for as long as he is able. ”
NOVAK
“ The two first met in the earlier years of Spencer's settling in Nightwing as a crossing of paths, and they would come to meet again by the time the territory grew dormant. To the deities and spirits that had their eye on Novak, Spencer's spiritual nature being present was a trigger for alarm. Little did they know that their meeting would turn into a chase that would lead them to a chase that sent them cross-continent. The end of their trek lead them straight into the Underworld in order to settle the issue once and for all. As fate was never kind to either men before meeting, things hadn't gone as planned. What the spirit gained was his life and peace from being pursued. What he lost was the friend that had his back through it all. Spencer isn't sure what happened to Novak in the end, or whether he still exists somewhere in the realm below. The thought weighs heavily on his mind. ”
[OOC: Things are coming together.]
+ Active Threads :
Tempest | Water Nation Temple | "Did you say a sorcerer?"
Cassella | Melbourne, State Library Victoria | "He's gone..?"
Raiya | Letters via Hawks | "I'm so happy to see you."
Unity (AU) | On The Highway | "Who's side are they on?"
This character originates from around 2011-2012, and much of the lore and stories told originate from events written within that timeline until now. As a writer, especially with Spence here, I'm fairly lenient with response times. He is a 'support' character primarily, but I have a few goals I would like to finish in his plotline yet. Great starting locations include libraries, cafes, the woods, natural landmarks... although I can put Spencer anywhere, he has versatility in settings. | FC: Nariman Malanov
Ghost Stories
Coming Soon..?
Heaven, let me come stay?
What would it cost
How would I pay?
Please just, save me a place
Tired and I'm awake. "
Comments
This disfigured mass seemed to have a solid consistency beneath tearing dark teeth, and yet soon as the flesh parted from its origins, it already faded away into nothing. The same part only sprouted out once more from the gurgling mass with furious vigor, each mangled face releasing another hideous scream, broken teeth gnashing into its incorporeal enemy. Entrails were ripped away only to materialize once more in its place, bones broke and fractured beneath the pressure, only to reform. Limbs twisted and cracked, outstretched fingers clawing through smoke and turbulent black mist. Its lengthy body thrashed about in an attempt to circle and twist around its assailant, sending out a loud, banging clatter of scorched shelves and other remains in that wreckage.
Cassella had no other choice but to try and evade that brewing skirmish all the while using it for her cover-- the other chimera was still there, and she was barely able to evade a possibly clean swipe. She would answer back with a lashing arc of flickering fire whose light was so much more feeble than before due to the dwindling air that it needed to burn. The crashing wood, the reverberating chaos that the sorcerer was bringing– it was all drawing closer and she can feel both anticipation and trepidation gripping through her entirely, only to shift its course. A chill so absolute already made its way up her spine. Did he actually find Spencer?
Oh no–
That brief flash of light came forth, and that was enough to make her pause. Her vision was already way too blurry to make anything out properly. The haze made it worse. That brief hesitation was all that the amalgam needed to try and gain the upper hand. There was no mistaking that she heard Marius– but even before she can locate the source of the sound and properly address what just happened, both enormous fiends finally fell apart into a cloud of ashes, dusting her away in a drizzle of cinders.
Taking that in wasn’t a good idea– that already sent her into a hacking, coughing fit, already doubling over just to breathe. It took a while for all that to clear out, and before Cassella knew it, the creature was the first to scuttle forward to investigate, numerous limbs easily clearing out a path of torrefied debris with all of that being tossed aside.
Mutilated heads and locks of matted hair shifted about on that meandering body, joints popping and serpentine spines twisting beneath taut skin as they did, crowding about to take a better look at the sight of the sorcerer that finally graced them. One stray hand clasping a shattered chair leg gradually extended… as if intending to curiously poke the slumped figure, only to be quickly held back by Cassella who obviously didn’t want that from happening any time soon.
If he wakes up, there will be problems all over again.
“Ducky?”
Only one word tumbled out, followed by whispers that echoed it. An old, endearing nickname delivered with a very confused murmur from numerous mouths and dried, scratchy throats.
“No, no, no– dammit. Look deeper. Ducky was long gone.” Cassella’s voice was a ragged whimper, pushing the bigger entity back to keep it from loitering around. A pale sliver of a weak, trembling light gradually formed in one hand, its length eventually growing out. When it seemed that she was about to raise this akin to a fragile blade, all heads snapped and turned at the slightest sound, this roiling heap of skin and muscle jumped up apprehensively at the voice. The amalgam’s many teeth were all bared and stretched into a garish grimace, almost threatening to launch itself once more at the very source, only to recognize Spencer amongst the rubble.
He didn’t leave, after all.
He seemed alright.
Cassella finally backed away when she saw him, now a whole lot more concerned than anything else, almost stumbling on an overturned table which was only prevented by a vigilant hand that pulled the shaky woman back to her feet. She can either take advantage of this situation or check up on a friend who was perhaps just as distressed as she was, and she didn’t hesitate to pick the latter. For a fraction of a moment, the expression on that woman’s pallid face streaked with ash was inscrutable. Choked up with relief, or with dwindling fear, or probably from the obvious lack of decent ventilation that was starting to take its toll on her, it doesn't matter now. She only pointed to the door, however, she will definitely meet him there.
The woman lurched forward, leaning against the amalgam that only cleared the path for more stable ground, with the entire thing grafting itself back into her arm as she advanced. A twisting pliable conglomeration of glinting muscle, ligaments, and displaced spectral organs now returned to its source–, that scarred, pale arm that never gave in to the weight of it worming its way back under the skin until all that was left for her to hold was the set of books that the host has ordered them to cradle earlier.
It was as if they were never released at all and had their own fair share of havoc.
The worn-out volumes in her hands seemed to be alright, save for a few more noticeable crinkles and the layer of ash from all that scuffle. Her bag was still intact, unharmed. The woman, however, was an utter mess, her formerly pristine coat now smudged all over with soot, and she was breathless.
“What the fuck just happened– what–” Cassella finally gestured. Her hands were red and blistered from the burns that she earned. She doesn’t even know what to gesture for– all that happened so fast and she has no idea where to start, so she just pointed in the general direction where Marius was, stifling away a cough with a dusty sleeve. “What did you just do? Are you hurt anywhere? Are you okay?"
More questions were going through that head, ready to be unloaded in one swift procession, with several variants of ‘did you just knock him out?’ and ‘why the hell is he so angry?’ just being a few of them. Her thoughts were a complete scramble of things that might take some time to be sorted out. With the sun starting to rise and its radiance starting to light up the sky, perhaps staying around wouldn’t be a good idea.
“W-we need to go.”
"Like I said, it damaged Cybertron to the point of no longer being habitable. Its war-torn surface remains a lifeless wasteland. Only a select few could still be there to this day if they hadn't shut down from a lack of Energon by now." His words on the fate of his homeworld were grim, with no hope of ever returning someday.
The subject of other survivors didn't go unanswered. "Scattered to the winds. I do know that a large Autobot ship called the Ark managed to escape long ago, but I know nothing as to its whereabouts. However…" Turning aside with his cobalt visor glancing down at a fifteen-degree angle, he gave the Mage some more recent insight. "I have reason to believe others made it here, just need to find them. As for how the Cons found Earth, I don't know. The ones at the shipyard were Decepticons."
Now that Spencer was somewhat brought up to speed, there was another glaring problem that he suddenly remembered, one that he wasn't going to enjoy hearing about. "If Starscream, second-in-command of the Cons is here with a small army, they might be preparing for Megatron's return. If that happens, the entire world will be in danger. I'm not capable of beating him myself, he's far too powerful as a warrior, it'd be suicide without help. Even without him, Starscream is far from predictable."
. . .
"Deal~ For the sake of giving you more resources to find him, I'll make an exception to grant you access to our warship. Perhaps you could give more insight on that pesky Human."
"Bring her down." One of his seekers would mutter into their wrist-mounted communicator.
Very far out amongst the heavens, a large, dark mass tunneled its way out through the clouds in a white mist. It wasn’t another bot, no, this was a gigantic vessel, capable of flight and space travel from the looks of it. The exterior was spiked in multiple places, large blade-like fins sticking out, a dark faded purple color for its hull, dimly illuminated lights resembling narrow optics, a pointed nose, and a runway deck on its top side towards the aft section.
Once the massive vehicle was right on top of them, a translucent yellow tube descended from its underside. Once on the ground, all flyers, including Starscream would step onto an elevator inside, where he'd wait on the corrupted sorcerer to join them before they'd be lifted in. "Are you coming or what?"
Those threatening postures made him freeze in place, especially when fangs were bared. Since she was smaller, his stance remained, keeping eye contact while his expression was neutral. He couldn't afford to look weak, not in front of her. Seriously, what is it with other dragons being so aggressive? All the drake did in response was partially tilting his head.
Alas, there was more context for their story, and he sat up-right on both rear legs to listen. His jade orbs followed her movements as she elaborated further. If there was one thing he was curious to know about, it was that mysterious mage they hadn't heard about before.
"Yuna… Lovely name though." The larger beast commented until her questions were answered. "Tempest, of the long-dead Carminite pod. Spence, myself, and big beefy boy outside came here to see if anybody was still around and find out what's been causing tsunamis at the surface. All three of us thought this place was dead."
Carminite, that was an old name that may or may not ring a bell. If he was indeed one of them, it was highly unlikely that Tempest hatched from an egg during a certain period, given his age, or lack of. This would only be reinforced by the fact he was oblivious towards the true importance of this place in regards to himself. He didn't even recognize it, at all.
If the slightly smaller female hadn't spoken any words after responding to her previously, the sea drake would inquire about a certain character from her tale.
"Who was that sorcerer anyway? Did he have a name?"
She pressed her hands together, fingers intertwining before she pushed it outward. From trembling pale hands came a blast of alabaster fire that carved its way forward as she swept it about. The pressurized stream of heat and light wasn’t prolonged, but it was significant in pushing the flames further in her section. Tongues of it found the wooden racks of books and papers, flimsy articles easily fueling the fire, spreading out into the others, leaving no exceptions to the parting storages and the contents that were also cast alight. The way it roared in its fury almost reached the banisters, crackling and charring up the walls that it touched.
Cassella wanted to take that up a notch, preparing to launch flames up to the second floor. Her aim was already locked. The voice that rang out and the absolute chill that went with it already impeded all progress they ever made, however. Even with the sudden sting of that bitter cold, that rage was palpable. In a flash, all light was smothered out, not even leaving a single wink amongst the embers.
For a moment, even the pale light that limned the woman’s skin blinked away and died, now blanketing them in utter blackness. There was only the rising hiss coming from the gurgling mouths of the fused familiar, breaking apart the now extinguished furniture into sharper, scorched pieces. No, stakes alone wouldn’t work. It took a while for Cassella’s skittish light to flicker back to life even with her trying to consciously will it, only to be met by the sight of the pouring smoke churning into a turbulent stygian miasma above them.
She can feel her heart drop. They truly had all odds stacked against them here.
Flecks of ash and soot fluttered downward as it moved, and within the forming circle of towering beasts, Cassella was a feeble glimmer of light, only accompanied by the writhing mass upon her back. What about Spencer? From the briefest apertures between melded phantom flesh, the guttural screeches coming up in its full strident crescendo and the sight of these dark chimeras circling around her, silvery eyes darted around, looking for any trace of the man. Not even the slightest glimpse of white upon the dark. Where in the world was he?
For a mind that has the first impulse to think of the absolute worse, several scenarios already went through that head, and none of them was good. When was it ever good, in a situation like this? And yet the sorcerer’s escalating frustration was enough to give her what she needed. Whatever he was doing in that darkness, this man couldn’t sense him. The ghost seemed to have a lot of tricks on his sleeve that even she wasn’t fully aware of yet, but no matter– this should hopefully serve them for now.
Perhaps it was for the best if he can stay hidden that way for a while, with that book still in his grasp.
If anything, she hoped that he already made his exit.
"Give it a rest already." The composure in her voice actually surprised her, when the look on her face earlier and a pounding chest betrayed that when panic first seized her. It was still there, that cold gnawing pit inside her gut that she just couldn’t shake away. Her stance remained on the defensive, blistered fingers twitching and curling, ready to stoke the flames once more at a moment’s notice.
The numerous eyes that drifted with her kept a trailing gaze on the behemoths prowling around, waiting for the first strike. Being grafted to the host wasn’t enough anymore. Empty, scintillating limbs twitched, the clump of flesh heaving itself out without much difficulty now that she was willing it. While it might not be as massive as the imposing monstrosities circling her, this centipede of hideous muscle, sinew, and anguished molten faces had its own winding length, effortlessly using displaced limbs of varying lengths to scuttle out. The high-strung creature was on guard, each clouded eye darting to every movement that it can perceive.
“You know how it is. He’s gone.” Her voice wavered. It didn’t come out as a provocation– no, that was something that Cassella actually hoped that her companion has done. Maybe Spencer making it out alive with more than half of the information that they have obtained would have been a better option. She will try to figure it out from here, with or without a rendezvous point, she just hoped that he got the hint. “Like a ghost. They come, they go, and you can’t catch them here, Marius. Not with that.”
The dismembered wolf pounced anyway with what it had left, and Cassella held out a pale hand to shield herself. A loud hiss resounded out the moment the bite connected. Yet instead of teeth digging their way into her flesh, sparks of pure white bloomed out of her skin, enraged tongues of fire blazing forth from outstretched fingers, scorching away a chunk of her coat's sleeve. Perhaps, that would be enough to fill that shadowy maw with flames from the inside out. She didn't seem to be injured from that, lashing out the whip once more just to give her more space against the first onslaught.
The woman briefly took advantage of the fire that Spencer cast, moving aside to slam her smoldering fist against the first two longer tables. It might seem that anything regarding fire or light required no worded incantation from the sorceress with both stoked upon her will alone-- flames already roared high and spread through the surface, rapidly eating its way through whatever coating it had. The smell of the burning wood paired with all other parts was ungodly, but she can deal with that.
Where were those crummy carpeted floors when you need them the most?
Despite how many times she switched from flames to gleaming lashes, even at the fire that now briefly trailed at her heels coursing against once polished floors, it only chipped through the onslaught temporarily. Are they really going to keep this up for gods know how many hours? Her heart sank. Even more so, when she heard Spencer once more.
"What the heck do you mean he's gone--!?" Her voice was audibly laced with panic that she could barely let that out. One sweeping look up and indeed-- that man was just… gone. That should have brought an ounce of relief but that just did the exact opposite. No, that couldn’t be. What met her gaze now was the incoming churn of volatile shadows from the high up, on all floors. Lifting her stare higher into the vast dome, it was still a little too dark for anyone's liking.
Marius can't be far, even if she wanted to be proven wrong. Especially with how livid this darkness remained, that's just too good to be true. "Burn as much as you can! I'll try to get this side!"
Yes, Cassella can hear herself. The nearest shelves upon the area’s borders were something that she was already eyeing. That was one statement that she felt like she shouldn't openly yell in an empty state library, even though they weren't even prized editions. It just felt so wrong. But then, it wasn't the first time she was involved in a fire before…
"Come on, free these damned hands!"
She wasn't talking to him now. Cassella cast the books that she was holding, each decrepit tome almost carelessly slipping away from her grasp. It didn't drop into the now blazing section of the floor, however. A third hand, glimmering and almost spectral in nature, already materialized to catch it and bundle it together, holding it close to her waist where it just pushed its way out.
In the light of the fire and the plumes of smoke, more of them sprouted from her back, wraith-like figures incorporeal enough that they didn't shed blood. Limbs of seemingly all sizes relentlessly pushed their way out in a grisly fashion, akin to a resolute plant and its roots, twigs, and boughs germinating from the earth. They creaked and snapped, seemingly fractured bones and shimmering sinew finally exposing themselves, only to make way for scraggly heads and withered faces, sets upon sets of clouded eyes sweeping around, as if they were searching for something-- or someone.
From a mass of ghostly limbs came an amalgam of numerous disfigured bodies and faces grafted together in a tightly knotted mass of ghastly distorted flesh and appendages. A chorus of mangled throats released an ear-splitting scream which their smaller host was obviously unhappy about as she advanced, launching fire into the shelves that she could aim for. Clawing hands reached out to each furnishing that it can grab, ripping it off from its posts and sending off showers of splinters. A flaming chair was used to bash one shadowy canine aside, ignited tables, and incandescent broken pieces from the longer furniture were used as both weapon and lighted barricade against some that dared to charge.
With how unhindered the woman seemed with this larger addition upon her back, perhaps this wasn't the first time she had to fluidly defend with these limbs, each bearing the strength that seemed misplaced for someone so small. They moved with gruesome precision, trying to swirl and defend against gnashing teeth and fangs, whether through furniture, returning bites or gleaming bare hands. Each time several limbs scraped the floor was that distinct, rustling sound Spencer might have heard before. Cassella was actively trying to push back, the expression on her face a mixture of sheer concentration, and perhaps, alarm.
Whether terror was mixed up with that, she had no time to reflect. Hell, she couldn't even see how Spencer will react to this eldritch horror that she was wielding now. If he was terrified of having her leave earlier, a part of her certainly felt that now.
They cannot keep this up forever, and her energy to keep up was nowhere near unlimited. But they just need to buy themselves time, and she hoped that can somehow suffice.
A familiar, friendly face was always welcome, whether or not they were traditionally welcomed inside. There was a newfound enthusiasm in the boy that Spencer hadn't seen earlier. When tea was asked for, the cupboards on the wall opened, a kettle floated to the sink to be filled, then placed itself on the stove with the tap turned off. A tea diffuser and a mason jar floated down, the top of the diffuser opened as the mason jar poured leaves into the filtering compartment. It seemed as if these items were moving on their own by how fluid their movements were. Nemo was removing his shoes and coat all the while, sitting just opposite him on the dining table. Tundra didn't seem at all bothered by the moving objects, testament of how often Nemo floated things around.
"You're always welcome here, Spencer, but I take it there's a reason you came?" When the kettle piped up, the stove was clicked off. Pouring hot water into the diffuser, two teacups and saucers floated from the cupboard, placing themselves on the dining table. After a few minutes, the diffuser pulled the compartment of leaves away, emptying the leaves in the trash bin as the other half poured the herbal tea into each of the two teacups. Nemo was listening all the while, giving one pair of teacup and saucer to Spencer as he was explaining.
Days came and went far too quickly, yet somehow still so slow. Raiya arrived to the safehouse three days after the hawk made her final departure to her handler. The following two days were spent asleep for the most part, for mind and body alike inevitably succumbed to the fatigue that had been stashed to the side for a large portion of her mission. The following day was spent in an uncomfortable state of slight delirium after the uncharacteristically long rest, yet alertness gradually returned as the hours ticked by on the seventh day.
Mild worry began to creep in like shadows during a setting sun; she assumed the journey for her companion would be a long one, yet it took a moment to quiet the inevitable "what ifs" as the day grew dark.
The overall area was starkly quiet, so footsteps were detected before the other made it to the door. There was only a hairsbreadth of a moment between Spencer's final knock and the opening creak of hinges ;; blue eyes met silver for but a moment, recognition swift before Spencer would find himself enfolded in the other elf's embrace.
There was a quiet intensity in the gesture that eminated notions in a way that words could not touch. The security of her hold, the subconscious yet ginger curl of digits into the fabric of his coat, the nuzzled features into his shoulder; those minute details were woven with threads of utmost sincerity, wordless proclamations of exactly how much relief Spencer's presence gifted her.
The embrace lasted as long as they needed, and Raiya's voice finally rose before it was released.
"Are you alright?" A simple question that awaited a potentially complicated answer.
"Ten-plus years. Initially, I came with several others from my unit, including a bot named Blackout. His alt mode was a dropship we used to make our landing. During a skirmish in low orbit, myself and others ejected. I thought he broke apart and disintegrated in the atmosphere until I caught a lead recently."
As it turns out, the mystery being had likely lost a few allies during his arrival, and was living alone for the past decade or so. Both arms were crossed after Spencer inquired about their encounter back at the abandoned shipyard, which made him hesitate for a moment. Eventually, he relented and gave him a brief story as to who they were, and why they engaged him.
"Yes, and they're anything but friends. Many eons ago on Cybertron, people became increasingly discontent with how things were. A bot named Megatron rose up, started a political group called the Decepticons. Initially, he preached equality, abolish the caste system, and sought to overthrow leadership with force.
There came a being who opposed him, Orion Pax. He addressed the Council and gave a profound speech for a better world, without a need for violence. They were so moved by his words that he was deemed worthy, and became what is known as a Prime. He adopted the name Optimus Prime following his ascension and became a benevolent leader.
As time went by, the Decepticon movement became increasingly volatile. It went from a noble cause to being a call for dictatorship. A global civil war ensued, one that I participated in for a long time. Our war devastated Cybertron to the point it was no longer habitable. Both sides fled the planet, and most of the Autobots left on a ship called the Ark.
My particular Division came here with the intent of setting up an outpost to hide from the Cons, and regroup with Optimus Prime. A few air patrols ambushed us until my fall here, and I haven't heard from anyone since."
. . .
All optics immediately shifted in the mystery man's direction when their question was answered. If that wasn’t eerie enough, both Starscream and his underlings noticed the shift in the air, which had many of them all raising their blasters.
Upon hearing his proposal, the lead Seeker gave a hand motion for everyone to stand down. Only then did their leader step forth for a closer look, stopping just a few feet ahead of him. Once the male was reached, he knelt down to somewhat match his lack of height, curving his metallic lips into a wide, venomous smirk of interest.
"Quite a bit actually~ You sound as if you know Unity's accomplice. If you lead us to him, you get to interrogate his human pet. Once that's over, he's all yours. I too need answers out of him, no telling what all information he has access to by now. What do you say?"
At least Marius wasn't the only one who had a lustrous finish.
It was one thing after another, and as much as Tempest wanted to poke some questions, Spencer already had her engaged for a good while. For now, he just followed them both towards and up the vestibule, wherever it would lead them. This entire place was something straight out of a fantasy novel for him, for the longest time he always thought this type of world was long gone.
Now, who in the world was Vulcan? Rather than ask, the sea drake kept his gaze fixated on her while listening closely. His head lifted slightly at the realization it was the same Draconic remains they stumbled across earlier and used as cover during their brief skirmish. Not only that, but somehow they brought him down, oh what a fight that must've been.
Then, another voice spoke. This prompted him to snap his head in the direction it came from, up high. "Holy~" Without finishing that short sentence, Tempest found himself awestruck when yet another dragon was seen, but not just any, an AQUATIC one! His heart dropped with some anticipation, needing a moment to process the fact that he wasn't the only oceanic drake in existence. Even he suspected for the longest time that Exoria, Gleeon’s partner, a former siren turned into one of his own, was long gone.
He had to see this Draconic lady for himself. Breaking away from Amatheia and Spencer, Tempest simply turned to walk up the flight of steps between them. His ascension felt like an eternity of thinking as so many questions burned in his mind. Absolutely nothing was getting in between him and this Dragoness, not even that giant angler drake if it suddenly barged in.
If the beast was allowed to join her at the top where the venue entrance was, said aquatic reptile came to a halt just a few feet in front of the slightly smaller female. His face was both visibly lit up, and anxiously simultaneously, almost as if seeing something akin to a long-lost significant other. This was made more apparent by the fact his webbed ears were pinned back on their own. He stood before her and locked eyes with his emerald hues.
In an effort to greet this stranger, the sea drake spoke.
"H-hey…"
“Magic… I’ve seen that a lot in books and movies, didn’t think it was real. Guess we’re both hiding secrets.” This mysterious bot had some knowledge about what this was, or the base concept, but not much beyond what was depicted in media. As far he knew, its genuine existence wasn’t exactly public knowledge. The fact this man wasn’t an ordinary human made him have second thoughts about dumping Spencer on a sidewalk.
“We need to have a talk.” It was decided that an exchange of knowledge would be had, which prompted him to switch lanes when activating his blinker. From there, they’d be gliding down the exit ramp and take a left past a stop sign, which would lead them down a lesser road towards a few woodlands ahead.
“Going to say this right now, I. Do. Not. Exist. Not even to your best friends, got it?” Rightfully so, he was concerned about retaining secrecy from other humans and was attempting to make Spencer come to an agreement first before anything would be disclosed. If given a yes, he’d receive the following answer. “Good.”
Soon, they’d turn into a few winding back roads, which were unsurprisingly devoid of any other motorists to minimize the likelihood of being noticed. It wouldn’t be long until the white Lamborghini pulled into an empty parking lot made from crumbling tiles, where weeds grew in between the cracks, and trees surrounding the abandoned property. More than likely, this place was once the foundation of a large building before being demolished.
Opening the driver-side door and undoing his seat belt, said rider would be let out until entire body segments shifted, coming apart to reform itself into the bot he was, easily towering over him. Both arms were crossed once the transformation was complete, gazing down at his much smaller figure.
“I’m a Cybertronian, the names Unity. I used to serve as a demolitions specialist for the Autobots, the faction I fought for until I got separated from my unit. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not from this rock. I chose an Earth-based vehicle for a disguise, the ability to transform is a fundamental feature of Cybertronian biology.”
. . .
Meanwhile, back at the shipyard.
Multiple Decepticon flyers had zipped over and transformed to join their superior painted in silver, two of which helped him out of his hole from earlier. There was an audible grunt from Starscream after being robbed of his dignity by one bot and a human of all things, he wasn’t having it.
“When I find that pesky Autobot, I’ll personally squish his little pet if it’s the last thing I do!” The seeker spouted, partly swinging an arm out of frustration once freed. Glancing back to his underlings, he’d speak to them once more, unaware of the possibility that another stranger might approach them soon.
“Seriously, what was that?! I hear a chant and the next thing I know, the earth splits! I’d like to know what kind of voodoo they’re dabbling into! I suppose we should get that reactor out of here soon.” The bot would add when remembering his original task, which was to retrieve that potential weapon of mass destruction.
If only they had somebody to give them insight on who exactly Spencer was...
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