Summary:
Tempest is a young Arctic Oceanic Drake from a dying breed that’s been poached into near extinction for their ability to manipulate water. Since being liberated from the New Zealand royal navy’s control, he’s been roaming the seas alone for several years in hopes of seeking out other dragonkin.
Personality:
For the most part, he's a jovial type of being, lazy, and an idiot at times, rarely takes anything seriously.
Abilities:
- Aquamancy -
Tempest possesses an advanced form of water manipulation, being able to create tsunamis, summon hurricanes at will, conjure up storms, whirlpools, or shoot beams of pressurized water at either an enemy or prey. His skills even allow him to influence the water molecules in a person’s blood to a degree. For fast travel across the seas, he can manipulate the surrounding water to propel himself at unimaginable speeds below or above the surface.
- Ice Magic -
Another unique trait his kind carries. This includes being able to cool his surroundings, freeze a selection of water, create hardened ice spikes that can be turned into projectiles, and cause a devastating hailstorm by freezing a small portion of the heavens. A common defense move used by him is creating thick ice walls.
Weather Manipulation - Like the rest of his kin, he can conjure up devastating storms and hurricanes. This allows him to flood entire towns and cities if given enough time. While weather control can be one of his most powerful abilities, it often burns out most of his magic depending on the scale it’s being done on.
Lightning Redirection - Exactly what it sounds like. Knowing basic Atomkinesis has enabled him to draw electrons from the atmosphere until they can be charged enough to create a brief bolt and be projected where he wishes. If not done correctly, Tempest can risk frying himself in the process or anyone around him. This rare attack move doesn’t change the fact he’s vulnerable to electricity naturally. This can only be used if a severe thunderstorm is present.
Weapons:
Poseidon’s Trident - A legendary item given to him by the God of the seas himself. This allows Tempest to use more special forms of water manipulation and can be used as a melee weapon while in human form. In addition, the Trident can break any Ocean bound curse or be used to alter the sea level.
Appearance:
Tempest is roughly ninety-one feet in length from head to tail. Reflective azure scales cover most of his hulking form, with a golden underbelly and varying turquoise flippers. Three horns can be found bent back across his head almost like a trident, along with emerald serpentine irises, and webbed ears. While he lacks a pair of wings, two large fins remain on his back to keep him level in water. Gold spinal fins run down along his armored back and stop near the end of the tail.
Long ago sea drake populations used to range in the hundreds per pod, arguably one of the ultimate apex predators with the exception of Leviathan. There were many different variations of them, from their unholy deep-sea cousins to freshwater species, tropic breeds, and many others throughout the globe. While their winged counterparts inland were being wiped out, their numbers in the wild remained unchanged for some time.
With the industrial age came the ultimate decline. As mankind's technology became more advanced, so did their weapons, and that enabled them to finally combat the aquatic dragons effectively despite their docile temperament. But this was not the root cause for their elimination: Pollution of the seas claimed more of their lives than humanity's crusade over could. As a direct result, most became biologically vulnerable and died of illness. All that contamination wiped out many of their pods. Tempest is one of the few survivors of this.
Prior to being forcibly separated from his mother, the juvenile of a drake was captured and had undergone training to serve the Navy for a new program they created. Though defiant at first, they managed to tame him when a woman named Diadena Hernandez was assigned to him as his handler. She succeeded in getting him to corporate and went on a number of missions with her Draconic partner. The two became emotionally attached after a period of time.
Once the news had spread of a decision to dissect him came about, Diadena removed his tracker and turned him loose. From there, he fled from the Naval base before migrating hundreds of miles away.
It was only later until the young Dovah heard a song coming from the shoreline. Something about that melody had drawn him towards it in ways that could not be described, other than an uncontrollable urge to confront it and be with whoever was singing it. The one responsible was what appeared to be a young brunette woman, who was too shocked to flee at the sight of him. In his seemingly delusional state, Tempest showered her with affection in the form of licks, nuzzles, and even attempting to hold her. As if knowing he'd be in danger just for staying out there in the open, she chose to travel and run off with him.
Whether his love for her became willing or was a long-term side effect of her sings, the two became an inseparable pair who got in and out of trouble together.
He was a Sea Dragon, she was a Siren, and neither one had a place to call home.
Together they became an unlikely duo, like two fugitives who had no one but each other to rely on.
As they carried on together, the two became increasingly frustrated with the size difference between them, it almost became a sort of barrier. To compensate for this, he drained the Siren's blood and replaced it with his own, which held some magical properties that could convert another into one of his kind. As a result, Clarion instead became a sea serpent. It was through him that she learned how to hunt prey with her new lifestyle. Them migrating together became a daily routine.
. . .
Sometime prior to meeting a man who forged an adopted family of monsters, something terrible happened that forced their group to disband. In the midst of all that chaos, Tempest and his mate Clarion were unable to locate each other quickly enough and fled separately. Just like last time, he was required to travel alone for a second time.
Hopefully for the last.
As for his whereabouts, Tempest is currently on an endless migration, whether it be in search of Clarion, the family, or to seek something else. With no one left to turn to, he conceals himself from any boats or ships that would draw attention to himself. He'll frequently roam in shallow waters, and is known to occasionally take on human form to explore any populated coasts thanks to a special transformation powder.
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Alternative Muses:
Answerer:
One of Tempest's surviving siblings, who was captured by Onyx Corp, had his memories wiped, received heavy augments for combat, and trained to be paired with a handler/rider. Like all augmented water drakes, Answerer mostly lacks a personality and only knows how to follow orders due to the brainwashing inflicted by his captors. He has a difficult time when it comes to independent thought.
Now without a rider, the modified brute actively seeks out another in hopes of being given a purpose again, unable to contemplate the idea of choosing his own path or going against what his mind was programmed to do. Anyone with a resemblance to his prior handler, even just personality-wise, is likely to be approached. It's not uncommon for someone to react negatively before Answer either retaliates or continues on.
When interacting with others, one of three things are likely to happen: Either assisting them, eliminating the one in question, or simply ignore said individual. Avoid falling into the wrong category unless he can be subdued.
Trua:
Being a former prince from a long-lost empire, Trua is a hybrid between an Eastern dragon and a European sea drake, able to wield both water and air-manipulation-based magic. This has enabled him to take to the skies, in addition to being amphibious.
Despite the incredible feats he's capable of, he is unusually small for a Dragon, being only twenty feet long from head to tail. The former royalty suffers from amnesia, unable to remember his past. To make matters worse, he often experiences back problems due to the disproportionate amount of weight on his spine from his body structure, also mute from an injury he received to his vocal cords.
It's common for him to hide his walking disability from others, which affects him even in human form, often choosing to sit in a wheelchair when possible, or swim in water while in his true appearance to reveal the strain on his bad spine. Others may find out from him hurting himself by accident or abruptly stopping during a lengthy walk.
To communicate with others since he's mute, Trua will either use sign language, or physically write words into soil or paper if someone doesn't know it.
Mel:
Being a biological uncle to and the same species as Tempest, Mel is an ancient sea drake who is also Trua's father, in addition to being the former leader of his now long lost pod. Said beast is very well composed due to being literally thousands of years old, he is both the oldest, largest, and most wise member of his kind, often being a father-like figure to those around who befriended him.
Having vast experience in combat, he is a prodigy with water-manipulation magic. It is said that wherever Mel is present, a great tropical storm will follow, and that his aquamancy is so advanced, that he can separate the hydrogen from oxygen, and ionize it to create a burning hot plasma, which can be fired in beams. Mel is also highly proficient in the use of cryomancy since ice is just water in a different form. Despite how devastating most of his ranged attacks can be, the big guy prefers getting up close and personal during a brawl. Very heavy explosives are needed to pierce his armored scales.
Due to his massive size, only large prey is sought after, often favoring large species of sharks (including Great Whites), walruses, and rays. One exception to this is sea lion pups, which he finds sweeter in terms of taste. Despite hunting all sorts of marine life, he does not prey on humans or two-legged beings.
Comments
“Hello”
This wasn’t good…
Oh c’mon… you don’t know for sure yet,
He didn’t know anything for that matter. He knew this wasn’t New York. He knew he’d never seen anywhere like it, even when he couldn’t make heads or tails of the space he was in. He knew he’d felt queasy from the moment he arrived, so… what happened? He didn’t know that part either.
“Hello!?”
There were one or two more shouts like it every now and then which echoed off the odd walls where they had gone unnoticed. Should he have been shouting? He didn’t know where the hell he was or what else might be there all together. A chill was felt now and then when the entity latched onto his soul was no happier about it than he. It told him something was off about this place. Nikolas rubbed his arms, slung his backpack further over his one shoulder, and kept walking. The place looked abandoned, dusty as all hell from what Nik had seen so far. He recognized the low drumming of rain coming from somewhere, striking the roof but it seemed… more distant.
So maybe the panic was setting in… just a little. Sure he’d ended up in the wrong places before when he was too sloppy with his penmanship, but never like this. Oh well, here went nothing. As Nikolas forced the door open, he already had one foot through the frame before he looked up. Blinking as if coming out of his train of thought, light blue hues shot wide open and met the stranger he’d never expected to be standing on the other side. Just as his stomach dropped he shouted likewise and took a few steps back-
“Shit-!” His foot slipped as he stepped back off the first of the short stairs, flailing before he caught the railing to stop from falling any further. Lucky enough that it wasn’t a threat or he might’ve been a dead man by clumsiness alone. “A-Ah- sorry I-”
Wait. Was that his name he heard? His panic halted if only for a second once he’d righted himself from stumbling. As the other man brushed his hair back, Nikolas gave him a deer-in-headlights look. His mind was drawing a blank, and he was sure he would have recognized the other as he saw him. “...” Then there was the voice to send him through another loop. Something clicked whether he knew for sure or not.
No way. How long had it been..?
“It’s you-” Was all he could manage to get out while his head was spinning. From the whole thing, really. Not to mention the floor that he was almost certain was rocking on occasion. Ugh. Unless he was finally going crazy. He hadn’t seen the water drake since a couple of mishaps ago when he had landed on the beach. Another time he got lucky with finding his way home, but he’d gotten better by now. Or so he’d thought. The time before that was the cafe; he hadn’t been back to it for a long while now. Not since the event a couple of Octobers ago where he was left the only one in the room that would vaguely remember.
“W… What are you doing here? And… where is here?” Nik questioned, his face white as a sheet. He wore normal street attire from when he’d left work. Nikes, jeans, a black t-shirt that read ‘Paradox Records’ in shattered text across it and a camo zip-up hoodie over top.
11PM Eastern | Upper West Side, NYC
“C’mon…”
The last lines were scrawled out with certainty and drawn over with care. Each marking had been placed, the sound of chalk being dragged, concrete ringing out in an otherwise quiet space. It was a workday in the life of Nik Everett when even his inner demons couldn’t stop him tampering with things well after the entity had warned him not to. In this case, it was a little practice on a new skill and a quick route to get home. A composition notebook was open beside him, depicting the circular patterns and straight lines that made up the seal traced onto the wall he was paying his attention to. Afterward, he dragged the chalk along the outside perimeter of the seal, tucking the chalk back into his pocket… When he was done, it was a doorway–about 2.5 x 2.5 feet.
Or so he hoped it would be. New spells were always hit-and-miss and sometimes one could only hope they wouldn’t backfire. He picked up a backpack nearby and tucked the notebook back inside, closing it before he placed a hand on the seal and took a breath…
Crrrrrkkkk. The sound of concrete moving as the rectangle he’d drawn cut loose and seemed to swing open like it was thinner than it had been. The other side of the doorway was dark, as expected. The man wasted no time stepping on through, bag and jacket in tow as he went on through.
The other side of the portal's entry was dark, as expected during the night. He thought nothing of it until he stepped on through… then his eyes adjusted. The doorway behind him closed with another creak and finally a thud. Nikolas turned around. Where there was once a doorway, he saw no signs it was ever there.
"...fuck."
-/-
??PM? | ????
He wasn't in Queens, was he?
Nope. It didn't seem like it. The smell of dust and old wood emanated from the room he had come out in. A hand reached out to grasp the crate nearby him when he felt the floor move a little… hm. It must have been tiredness from casting the spell, but he’d never felt it like that before. All he could smell was dust as he stood up, glancing around the dark room. Was it a basement..? The room felt like it had moved again, and he placed a hand on another crate to steady himself… damn.
Is it you? Cut it out will’ya?
No answer from the entity in the boy’s head. He couldn’t stop and sit down there anyway, he had to figure out where the hell he was. As Nikolas’ eyes adjusted he started to make out the objects. Large crates, barrels, other such cargo he couldn’t make heads or tails on as he went. He’d never been in a room like it, and just maybe there was a reason for that.
He walked until a stairway was reached, studying the metal architecture of it… that wasn’t anything he’d ever found in a house. Not to mention the size of the room he’d come out of… where the hell was he? A door was pushed free despite its groaning complaints and Nik took the staircase that was behind it, the sound likely to echo onto the next space. The hallway felt industrial in itself. Onto the next room, at this point, he didn’t know where he was. The floor once more shifted on him and suddenly he had a sneaking suspicion of what it might be. No way.
“Hello!?”
A voice finally shouted out, for what it was worth. There had to be somebody around, right? ...Right? For now on he kept walking, taking a deep breath on occasion to stave off the queasiness that hadn’t died down.
The last thing Tempest might see was the streak of white as the Ex-Rider headed for the door, eyes peeled and senses raised in alarm to… whatever it was. The man’s eyes followed the flashlight down the hallway, catching the reflection of whatever creature of being had made itself known and far too close for Spencer’s liking. Mercury hues squinted in the dark for whatever indication he could of the creature. His eyes flickered down to the floorboards and the trace left, deciphering what was their s from before and what was most certainly new.
Footprints behind him caused a flinch from the man, casting a quick look over his shoulders, mortified until he realized it was Tempest himself. Exhaling a breath, he shifted his eyes forward again… it was gone. “You… saw that, didn’t you?” Spencer murmured with uncertainty toward the drake as he inspected whatever it was left behind. He watched the other recoil, wrinkling his nose when he turned his attention toward it. “It belongs to our visitor… whatever it was,” he grumbled, sweeping his hair back and rubbing sleep from his eyes… what time was it, even? Was that a sandal in Temp’s hand? It seemed so. Spencer’s brow raised, turning back down the corridor.
“Can you follow it..?” He murmured as he started walking again, taking medium strides. Not that the drake wanted the smell in his nostrils for any longer than it had been. The flashlight was pointed forward as he continued on, turning the corner. The incantation in mind was practiced on his tongue once more, doing a sweep with the light on occasion
“Assuming the wildlife here hasn’t taken them, which is a miracle in itself… humans were never made to exist out here on their own. Not ill-prepared.” All in all, it was a problem to be faced by the inhuman world as a whole. The discovery of something beyond their comprehension coupled with an inability to slow down and analyze it. Humans often chose to run before they had thought to walk. They only had so long in this world after all. As the other went off to sleep he kept to his studies without any intentions of pausing. When he was content with the book of Invictus he moved on to something that had already lie in his bag. The night was ended in his journal once the book was stowed away, settling with the pages still open in front of him, arms crossed on the table.
. . .
The night came and was soon to leave, and Spencer hadn’t moved. He slept on average every few days at best, letting his body’s efficiency come in handy until the days were filled with too much activity and travel to keep it up. That night, he’d finally crashed. The swaying of the ship did little to wake him, growing accustomed from the time aboard… however-
When a book moved he startled awake, lurching up from the table even as if it were old muscle memory. His hand was quick to reach to the back of his chair where the blade lay sheathed, grasping the hilt backwards to slide it out. Before he could do so Spencer paused, frozen. Where was he..? It seemed he’d fallen asleep as is. Night terror..? No. He’d thought he was done with those by now. The sounds were real. Spencer’s eyes shifted to the flashlight, brow furrowing. With a hand still on the sword’s hilt, he grabbed for it, flicking it on hastily.
After a brief sweep around the room, the flashlight froze over the figure, mercury hues catching the sight of something passing through the doorway. The man bristled when he didn’t know how to respond. After a moment of hesitating, he rose from his seat the second after, leaving the blade behind as he went for the door. Whether the commotion would alarm the Invictus or startle Tempest awake, he hadn’t taken the time to think of it. As the sound of strange footsteps thudding was heard he turned to follow, flashing the light down the hall with his free hand poised for spellcasting if need be.
The behemoth’s drone seemed pleased enough by the gesture of the ship’s entity, taking his seat within the room. Spencer looked onward between the two thoughtfully for a moment. As Irrlith answered his questions one after another, the Ex-Rider was scrawling down his thoughts to it all. It was one less member of their party to worry about drowning… and it was dwindling down to himself. On that note, the spellbook he’d set on the table was pulled a little closer to him—next on his to-do list to figure out.
From his floor seating, Irrlith blinked one of his two sets of eyes present at the moment. Another deep hum entered their thoughts. This world’s binding is stronger than my realm… I may use its skies for only so long. I need not require this atmosphere.
“I had a hypothesis… many of these books ago,” Spencer tapped the end of his pen on the journal. He glanced between Irrlith and Tempest. “...our world’s gravity differs from even its neighbors, let alone somewhere distant, somewhere governed by another star. To be heavy enough to maneuver underwater is one thing. To be able to fly is quite a different story.” As he spoke, the behemoth’s head lowered a few inches. There was a low, melancholic rumble heard from the beast.
All pondering set aside for the time being, Spencer had unfolded the slip of paper and explained it once more. Humans. Enough of a group and they could change things considerably. If they knew just when they would appear? He would have no concern. They didn’t. Unprepared humans didn’t need to stumble into the grounds…
Mercury colored hues then shifted toward Tempest when prompted. His lips pursed, giving undivided attention for just what their next concern was. As he listened, his elbow propped on the table and his hand covered his mouth in thought. The pen in his hand tapped against his fingers absently. “We don’t need questions… nor do we need visitors after the fact. The wrong strangers appearing at the wrong time have sparked wars in the past. You’re right.” Spencer exhaled. He sat up straighter in his seat and ran a hand through white locks. “We’ll see to it in the morning… we’ll see what we can do. Wherever Lenn is, I wouldn’t doubt he has his eyes peeled. Irrlith all the same.”
His last words were spoken and his eyes went to the drone that seemed content where it had laid down. A long hunt and time to settle had done the behemoth outside the ship well.
Aye. I will.
“-I think I’ll wait up a little, if you don’t mind, that is… I have a few more things I’d like to finish with here.” Spencer requested a bit sheepishly. If no fuss would come of it, the lamp closest to him was pointed away from the couches. In the meanwhile, Irrlith’s steps along the floor were heard and he would start to climb the edge of the couch Tempest rest upon, taking a seat on one of the armrests.
. . .
Night drug on into the morning, and although the sun wasn’t up quite yet, the man hadn’t moved. He’d be found right where he was prior, in his seat. One of the books of the Invictus’ shelves was open still in front of him, a pen between his fingers loosely. Spencer’s arms were crossed, his head buried on top of them as if he’d only meant to rest it there for a second. His eyes were closed with no signs of waking up. The man had crashed. Rightfully so; he’d gone his allotted few days without sleep and that was all that he could handle before nodding off.
Once his little demonstration was over, the bag was placed on the far end of the table once more and the sheathed sword, having been pulled free once more, came to rest around the back of his chair. “I have traveled the world with only that. Not that I find myself needing much at all.” Not that he hadn’t found possessions where he’d do anything to bring it back home before, either.
His words on the larger beast’s presence, in the meanwhile, was spoken as a hypothesis. He was no empath nor mind reader, but in the very least he was observant. He had seen many beasts come and go yet claimed no expertise… aside from his own. “He knows empathy… I think he knows pain, friendship. It can take a little nudging, is all.” On those ending words, Spencer started writing, answering if Tempest chose to speak but his eyes seldom left the page. The ink flew onto the page where one might wonder in certain places if even he could read it. Once a page or so was filled he closed the journal and opened up what was like a field book. As the pages flicked by briefly, they were full of similar scrawl in a couple of different languages, symbols, and diagrams to be seen throughout, if only briefly. A fresh page was hit and the date was written on top, alongside the title: Invictus.
He wasn’t far into writing his introduction before he posed the question. To his surprise, the deep voice answered from up above. A glance went toward the doorway instinctively to see the simplistic drone-like form Irrlith had taken for the time being. The smaller being took a seat, light blue almost beefy eyes peering toward Tempest when he spoke. A rumble of a ‘Hm.’ came as confirmation, the sound comically deeper than the small sight before them. The brute sounded content, above all. A century spent dwelling under the earth took its toll, after all.
Irrlith’s head shifted when there was a motion off to the side of his vision, peering up at the ship’s figure then. He gave two subtle blinks and a strange downward and upward dip of his head. A greeting?
Spencer watched the exchange curiously, then looked to Tempest when the question was still up in the air. He listened, pen-in-hand as he did. He waited until the other was most of the way done before he started writing. A wayward glance went to the phantom child where he paused and tapped on the end of his pen thoughtfully. “So we haven’t reached the end of your surprises, hm?” He commented lightly toward the entity. His gaze went between the drake and the alien then. He opened the Invictus’ book to its first spread. “And Irrlith… back home you were a sentinel of sorts, were you not..?”
The brute stood and took a few paces closer to the table.
Aye. I stood to guard our realm.
“Can you swim..?”
I awoke in the Northern sect of this world. From there I walked its darker region.
“Darker region… you mean the sea?”
Hm. Another small sound of confirmation from the beast.
The man’s brow furrowed for a moment as he thought. On the top corner of the page, he wrote a simple sentence: ‘Irrlith walked across the ocean floor?’ Spencer popped another gummy bear in his mouth afterward. “We don’t know when it will be active next. Not to mention what Lenn had mentioned in his message,” He looked to Tempest.
Their airmail, that was. The one carried by sky when his raptor of a bird had landed on his arm to deliver it before Irrlith’s unearthing. Digging back into the messenger bag he pulled out the small slip of paper and unfurled it. “He mentioned men were approaching from inland. I don’t know what could have brought them other than the wave, which means perhaps Nightwing wasn’t the only land that felt it.” The hand-written note was left on the table. His forearms rest on the surface after. “I hadn’t bothered to worry prior but they have had some time, now… if they traveled straight to the coast then we might have company in the coming days, if they follow the path of destruction.”
I replied to your very last reply? Maybe it didn't go through or something, it's okay I'll just send over another response in the morning if that's okay! I'm sorry for the delay, I didn't know that my comment must not have went through.
Hi love, just curious if you've gotten my reply?
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