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
Parasite was one way to describe him. Leech. Pest. Just to name a few. The insult didn’t phase him even with it’s mistaken aim at his own character and presented human form. Pretty boy riled no reaction out of him either. Apollo took the insult as a compliment. After all, care for his form was always something he would attend to.
“There’s only one boy here,” Apollo sighed as his hand dropped to the side. “And I make it a point to teach insolent children lessons.” Apollo stepped toward Tempest at a languid pace. Every step muted in the sand. Only the finest hearing would pick up the softest scratches as sand rubbed against the sole of his dress shoes. Every move is intentional.
“Lesson one,” one corner of his lip curled into a sinister smirk. Ice eyes met Tempest gaze and in a blink Apollo no longer stood before Tempest but behind him. Mouth dangerously close to ears as his breath fanned across Tempest's skin. “Looks are deceiving,” in another blink Apollo twisted with that unnatural speed. His body spun, knee up, until he completed his roundhouse kick. If he succeeded, Apollonius leg contacted Tempest's side, sending that mortal body flying across the sand, away from the water. Plums of sand burst into the air with every impact.
After their last encounter, Apollo wasn’t foolish enough to believe allowing the Drake easy access to water to be helpful in their fight. Of course, it didn’t mean Tempest couldn’t manipulate it from a distance, but Apollo would disable him from doing so before he really let it happen. “Lesson two,” by the time Tempest would stop rolling (if he had at all) Apollonius appeared next to him again and another kick slammed Tempest into the ground. Ice eyes flashed red as Apollo leaned forward with Tempest beneath him. “Don’t assume everything that lurks in the daylight is human.”
Irrlith seemed to hum a simple note from his chest in the meanwhile, the clicks foreign to Spencer’s ears but he could hardly hear over the water’s pressure on his eardrums anyway. The Ex-Rider watched on occasion as Tempest made his rounds about the behemoth, much like a feeder fish would hover about a whale shark ambling along with its own business. It was a curious thing, and equal parts frightening.
The behemoth perhaps hadn’t lied in its tale about crossing the ocean. Irrlith was doing more walking than swimming when the landscape permitted it, feeling out the surroundings as they went. On some occasions they were close enough to the brute for Spencer to reach out and touch if he was so brazen to loosen an arm—he wouldn’t. He was along for the ride and in the Drake’s trust for better or for worse, whether it was the security of not drifting into the darkness or ducking from chunks of less-fortunate sea life that had been the snack of boredom for a much, much larger predator of the sea.
. . .
When Irrlith’s vision hit his senses once more, it was the first clue Spencer had in some time. He wouldn’t waste it, glancing around like he had control over the angle, taking in what he could. His heart dropped as it seemed they would be dropping in depth themselves. He wanted to speak. He just about opened his mouth, even, remembering after a half-second that it would be no use.
He had plummeted from the sky before, trusting to be caught, but when Tempest dove to descend into the chasm, his heart still leaped like it was something entirely new. His grip tightened, hunkering down and pinching his knees closer to try and avoid drifting off his back into the unknown. Who knew the sensation could grow old after so many years? This was still an entirely different playing field.
And so, down they went. The first pause by the behemoth beside them came, and it was almost too abrupt for the likes of the slow-moving beast. In Irrlith’s sights, a flash could not have been missed. Another low rumble of a sound left his chest locally. The clicking was then directed toward Tempest.
There is a presence.
The space beast’s senses knew little doubt with how it operated: it either was or wasn’t. Only in rare instances had it grown disoriented by what his senses told him… one was Spencer’s existence and how he clung to his soul. Another was the gravity that placed him upon the planet, now something that was accepted. As for the ‘blip’ on his radar? The flash of movement? He knew it wasn't any tricks of his mind.
A few more clicks came to signal come on, before Irrlith proceeded with all glowing eyes open. He climbed down the rocky cliffside manually while the other took their swim, eventually hitting the ground below a bit swifter than the duo had.
It was unfortunate. From the lefthand side of the Drake, the water had lightened considerably like a fog in headlights, slowly growing brighter. There were soon forms to be made out—eyes? Patterns? The light was glimmering in the dark to the point where even Spencer's attention had turned to speculate. The light shone brilliantly through the murkiness of the water until-
Irrlith snarled an awful sound, coming out as a rumble through the water directed toward Tempest. It was felt like a wave through the water and had a way of putting the Ex-Rider's hair on end like it wasn't already in the cold depths.
If Tempest turned quick enough, a second high pitched shriek split through the water and was fast approaching at lightning-quick speed. What was that!? First were the bright specks like glowing stars that seemed to move at some accord of their own. A silhouette was shadowed behind the lights to show whatever entity was moving forward like a torpedo, twisting and turning on its path forward. Electric orbs were staring the two down without pupils, luminescent fangs bared and ready to strike the sea drake if he wouldn’t move, and fast.
Once alone on the boat’s deck, Spencer exhaled and began his own preparations. The spell had come in handy only a few times in his life, but when it was needed, he was happy to have it front and center in the spellbook. With his belongings sealed away in the safety of his bag, the dive was taken down below. The water left a chill on his skin to become used to, and the saltwater stung those newly formed lungs, not to mention his eyes, but it was all manageable when it was temporary.
Off the shore far enough, the rocky formations hiding deep under the surface were seen as silhouettes. Irrlith was his own landmass down below. As the water drake took a glance around at the behemoth’s form those armored plates told little. From under some beneath what would be a ribcage, small streams of bubbles rose to the surface. Those tendrils present upon Irrlith’s back were flattened against one another on each side for the sake of streamlining, much like a dragonfly’s wings pressing back against one another. The main set over his shoulder blades remained unfurled The faint glow of each orb was seen, giving him a 270 view of the surroundings.
The beast saw the world in near monochrome if not for the aura that was felt within each creature. The smallest schools of fish had a glimmering presence while Tempest’s own was a brilliant blue in contrast. Then there was Spencer’s as he entered the water, causing a few sets of Irrlith’s eyes toward the vibrations. His aura was something else. It glowed silver. To the beast’s eyes, rather than being firmly attached, it seemed to stray in and out of the two-legged man’s body like it had a life of its own.
It took Spencer a moment to adjust to it all, treading water as he let himself sink down at a comfortable pace, seeing the Invictus’ scale beneath the water and Irrlith’s mass off in the distance. Part of it was frightening. He had stood beside some of the largest beasts in the nation, but underwater? He was a sitting duck, no different than he was in the sky. There was something humbling in knowing his place in the territory owned by beasts(foreign or not) was being supportive at best. Soon he caught a glimpse of the water drake in his full form and waited for Tempest to approach. Once close enough he reached out to grasp a hold, getting his footing and being mindful once more of the spines and fins present. A nod was given whether it was to reassure the drake or himself, and they were off.
. . .
As they dove deeper it took the Rider’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dark that was becoming heavier and heavier. He could see the silhouette of Irrlith and hear the humming of the vessel nearby, grounding him to where they were. Not too far from them, the behemoth seemed to ponder the question in silence for a short while before finally, it found a way to translate an answer: I filter the sea. I let part of my being rest... this realm of your world proves kind to my species. It was cryptic, to say the least. The water served as a rejuvenation from the land when gravity held less power over him. The sentinel took lead then as the ocean depths came back to Irrlith. A simple string of instructions was given as due ahead. One league.
Spencer was left to be silent among them, keeping his grasp on the water drake’s fins closely. He could survive the dive just maybe, but keeping up was an entirely different matter. One wrong move and he would be off on his own in the deep dark and forced to find the surface… a league? He searched his brain for the conversion rate but by some miracle couldn’t find it. The answer was well over what a human could tolerate on their own. His grip tightened ever so slightly.
. . .
No matter, they were moving. Irrlith’s eyes seemed to close set-by-set as he decided which, leaving the front few atop his head. They carried on just like that, by the beast’s steady walking. It picked up speed with the water growing deeper, forcing Spencer’s breathing to slow as he worked to acclimate to the pressure. Several minutes passed, ten, fifteen… the man didn’t know for certain, but all of a sudden there was a sound as Irrlith stopped his walking.
A vision came over them once more from the behemoth’s mind–this time his eyes were shared in the present for either of them to use. A feeling of lightheadedness went over them both but it wasn’t as heavy as the last time.
They were looking at… blueprints, for lack of a better word. The beast saw the ocean almost as a topographic sketch, the details closest to them appearing lighter than those further back. The dim lights of different auras were seen, from who-knows-what swimming down there. A more diffused light came from off their right in the distance. What they were looking at was a trench. It was as if they were perched on the edge of a cliff; The next mile of their journey was a series of ledges in order to fall to the seafloor below. Without human influence, they seemed teeming with aquatic plant life that the ocean in other regions wouldn’t offer. It appeared to open up into a cavern-like system that twisted and turned as the stones decided. Spencer had questions, as he always did. He cursed his silence for the time being as he glanced around them furiously, trying to soak it all in. Just as he got used to the vision, it disappeared when Irrlith took his sight back and he was left in the dark.
We go down. Irrlith prompted Tempest with a series of clicks. It was not the passive gentle tone he had on the shore, but one slightly more commanding as he took the first step. The stone cracked as his foreclaws curled around it, and the tendrils hinged at his shoulder blades seemed to reach down. They worked as another set of arms to brace himself, reaching out unto each ledge so he wouldn’t fall abruptly, letting him climb down with care.
Still… the brute touched down on each level with a thud that shook the stone due to his weight. He seemed to pause after one or two, opening two more sets of eyes to peer about as if he had heard something.
“Be ready for it,” Spencer responded. He wouldn’t rule it out anymore than he would anticipate it willingly. The fact tore him in two; it was the imminent danger of his home versus the chance at discovering something that likely no two-legged faction of Nightwing had stumbled into. Once under the hull of the ship he started on his own preparations; he dressed, tucking away what was needed in his bag that was locked and sealed with its own magic to avoid the elements they would be faced with. The sword found a place on his back just as it had in the olden days. It wouldn’t help them unless there was a chance of dry land down below…
and what if it was purely underwater? He tried not to think about it, but he had to be careful lest it become a watery grave at the wrong turn. The surface would always be there so long as he could reach it. Shaking aside all fear, the spell was found after sorting through the weathered book on the table. The next several minutes were spent in repetition of the phrase until he finally placed it in the bag with his other belongings. The books on the Invictus were left upon the table, when he wouldn’t be the one to leave it at the bottom of a trench from all of this.
“The spell is an invocation… I need to speak the phrase as I concentrate on it; if it gives out under water I won’t be able to repeat it, likely,” Spencer stated in a neutral tone despite what it truly meant. Once readied he turned toward the drake where he had settled back. “I’ll come up to the deck, but I’ll conserve my energy until we leave. I’m sure Irrlith is waiting,” He mused. With a tip of his chin he gestured back to the door, soon to follow.
. . .
On the surface, Spencer had shed his shirt and jacket once more, tossing it into his bag when they would only drag him down. He glanced toward Tempest as he shifted, resuming the serpentine form. “I'll need a moment to cast it. When you see me dive, would you come for me?” He requested to the drake, taking a seat atop the vessel’s railing.
The beast was waiting as no more than an unusually dark mass under the surface. Remaining in his colossal form, as Tempest shifted and left to get his look under the water, it seemed that Irrlith would be walking there rather than swimming. The water was kind to the beast and its hulking frame, however, letting him sink into the sand without burying too far into the depths of it… perhaps to Tempest’s surprise? The beast’s clicks returned in a similar fashion as its head turned, multiple sets of iridescent blue hues staring back under the water.
Still on the ship, the words were run through the mage’s head for the invocation once more. On his third pass through, they were spoken. As the man closed his eyes, he spoke the few phrases with intent until they were finished. At first he felt nothing. After a few moments, he felt his skin along his neck leading down to his shoulder sting. The man hissed a swear at the effect, gripping the railing up until the sensation was gone. When it finished, he synched the blade’s strap around himself tighter, took hold of his bag, and plunged into the water below.
It was cold, frigid to the man that had made a point to stay away from the coasts until late. The saltwater soothed the stinging strangely enough, and an odd relief came when he took his first breath. The other two would hear the splash and see the man fall, not bothering to head to the surface after. Were those… gills? The slits along the man’s neck and shoulders were attuned to a shark’s as if his skin had split to allow it. When his eyes had adjusted to the salt, the dark of the depths below that they’d be headed toward was another story.
A series of clicks came from Irrlith that Spencer would have no hint to. As for Tempest? It seemed they had at least one inherent language in common. Below. Due East.
“I hope you are right… I would rather receive a welcome rather than anything. We’ll hope for it but expect the worst…” Whatever the worst was, who knew. Still, it was a discovery and a rather large one. “Exciting… isn’t it?” Spencer mustered up a smile, glancing out to sea once more. It was one word for it. There were plenty of others he could think of that were less positive. Nonetheless, it didn’t matter. They were going.
“I see it best we approach this in a manner of stealth. The dragons’ keeps are somewhat sacred in their own right, until we know what we are facing I’d find it best to keep that in mind.” It was the historian speaking within the man, one that had bowed his head at many caverns to be allowed entry whether he was the Rider to their general or not. You’re speaking as if we might find something, he reminded himself with care. Hope was a risky thing to wager the soul on. No matter, if there was or wasn’t, they had to be prepared. As Tempest pointed to the door they had come, they were off to the ship’s interior.
. . .
A half-smile show to the sentiment and Spencer huffed. “It was a truly frightening place. It saw no visitors to its arches even with closer proximity to some of the battles that had come and passed.” He spoke of it relatively calmly all the same as they headed down the corridor. “It was still home, to those that gained the favor of the dragons and the beasts.” As they reached the right door he passed on through.
“I… don’t know,” Spencer murmured. He was saying it far too much lately for his liking. “I don’t expect humankind has crossed through their territory. I don’t know whether they took on Riders, many of those in Nightwing did not, after all.” His shoulders turned, sifting through the vast interior of the messenger bag by the table. A set of clothes was pulled out one item at a time, mainly a pair of dark jeans, a t-shirt, and a black jacket that looked well-worn. He started to change whether the drake was there or not; after so many centuries there were some things he was no longer impish about. He continued talking as he slipped the shirt over his head, covering the markings down his spine. “I can handle higher altitudes than a human could, I hardly need many things… I can evade most dangers, but…”
The jacket was the last to follow. It wasn't armor, but he was never better off in a situation while weighted down. He turned around when he was done, leaning back against the table’s edge. “Pressure, I’m not sure. There’s truly no manual for the half-living." His head shook. "I know a lot of what I have learned by trial and error. This time might not be any different.” A glance was taken to one of the journals on the table. “I do have a spell for breathing. It can be cast with a little practice of the words, and it should last on the way down.” He set the book down, picking up the sword in its sheath. “I have a curious feeling that nature has evolved under the water just as it has in the mountains.”
Apollo’s head cocked to the side and the second eyebrow raised. Mouthy thief. Reptile, serpent, dragon, it didn’t matter to Apollo. On any other occasion he would have been impressed. Honored even to meet a Dragon. He’d never actually met one before and only heard rumors and legends. If he recalled back in the Renaissance there were a few he spotted in the skies every now and again in his travels. But never one he met face to face. He should be honored.
But in all reality, honor could go fuck itself in that moment. A threatening, irritated growl rumbled in his throat.
“Stop rambling! The details of your species doesn’t matter to me.” Apollo snapped. He took a single slow step towards the dragon. “You took something of mine. Give. it. Back.” One hand withdrew from his pocket and extended between the two of them, palm up and ready for the wallet back.
“I don’t need an army to take what’s mine. I don’t need a knife. And I sure as hell don’t need cops.” His nostrils flared as he took another step. Chin high, shoulders squared, but with each step his feet were further apart. His weight had shifted from the balls of his feet to his toes. Tempest may not have been the snake, but Apollo was ready to strike in his stead.
“This is your only warning, Drake.” He snarled the correction. Among a rather relaxed but ready to move position, Apollo looked human. Ice eyes and that snarl were the only inhuman hint about him and the monster lurking inside.
“I don’t know,” Spencer was quick to respond, as if shooing away the notion before it could give him too much hope. There was danger in having too much hope over what was in stake. He had learned the hard way over time in his own searches over the years. The vision had brought back all the same turmoil for the man, causing a frown to grace his lips. “If there are, they would be unattached from so many years… it could hold creatures otherwise, Nightwing is a host to countless different kinds of beasts.” Why would the seas be any different?
He cast a glance to Tempest at the notion, looking down the deck of the vessel right after as if considering. “If another tsunami were to come, how would it fare?” Spencer questioned. He glanced back out to the open sea. “I suppose… we might be fine so long as the ship is positioned behind the entry to the den. It will take us further out into open water, but it’s closer than none.” Would the vessel be able to assist once they were in the depths? That was another question altogether, but having a jumping off point would be useful all the same.
As if their nerves weren’t already shot by their early morning awakening, the humming beneath their feet followed by a jerk that made the man grasp hold of the railing and stumble. Irrlith was the first to hear the motion under the water it seemed as the brute had already been in the process of moving back into open waters. They were moving. There was unease on Spencer’s face as they did so, but it settled down as they stopped turning. “Well… that settles that,” He mumbled.
“Irrlith, take us there steady! The less of a wake we leave the better!” Spencer shouted out after, information for the vessel and the behemoth alike. He sighed and swept his hair back at the thought of what all had transpired. “We should… get dressed for the day, even,” Spencer confirmed. The second request was heard but hadn’t been responded to. He gestured back toward the door they had come from.
. . .
“It… was as hospitable of a place as you’d expect,” Spencer spoke up again as they headed down one of the long corridors for the room they had started in. The Shadow Nation, that was. His eyes were kept forward. “Their den was due far Northeast of my home, a few days walk by foot. A half-day round trip by my own methods… It was a mountainous empire, mostly black stone. There was a forest at its base where the Attakapa tribe lingered on the furthest edge of it. They were carnivorous beasts, their land was mostly swamps and bogs and dry timber in other places… But the Shadow Nation itself was a menacing sight. The dragons’ dens were deep into the mountain, carved out and fortified. With one wrong turn of the lighted path and you could find yourself lost in the dark for days.”
He paused as they reached their door to the library study, his chair still slid out and his sword resting nearby from when the wake up call happened. He closed the door behind them, reaching into the depths of his bag to find a change of clothes. “While most might see the entrance and turn around, it was another home in Nightwing. Chanook’s den resides at the depths of it. I can still find my way to it regardless of how dark.”
“To expect it’s something among the living isn’t out of the question… all in all, we are in a land owned by beasts whether they are still present or not.” Spencer responded without looking, his eyes out to the open water as if it could hold any answers. He glanced back to Tempest after a moment. “I’m saying that we don’t know, not until we see for ourselves.”
It must have been the exact statement to get the behemoth’s attention to the matter. That low hum interrupted Spencer and his worries alike, feeling as if it went straight through either of them and caused the ‘blackout’ that took them to another place entirely. It was dark, grainy even. It brought to wonder how well Irrlith saw in the first place–the shapes and figures held an odd outline to each, varying in depth and telling the extraterrestrial beast just where it was headed. The depths made Spencer’s heart drop when it was certainly out of the mage’s ‘ordinary’. The further the vision went, he dialed in on just what could be seen around them… then there were the pillars, carved in a serpent-like fashion and weathered by the sea.
He knew what it was… it had to be. He knew it before the vision was over, his urgency to share reined in until the ship’s deck returned to him with a rush of blood to the head, his eyes forced to adjust to the light once again when the morning returned. Breathe, he thought, gripping the railing. He felt Tempest clasp onto his shoulders so the Drake wouldn’t fall over himself, his head turning quickly. So he had seen it as well. He nodded once as if to say ‘it’s alright’ and then turned the accusation toward the behemoth. So much for any notion that it wasn’t a beast. Once the other was steady Spencer stepped away from the ship railing, turning his back to the sea with his hands over his head momentarily. They lowered after a moment and he turned back again. He glanced at Tempest.
“Yes… I believe it is. I would know those pillars from the Shadow Nation... I passed by them more times than I could count, and the Fire Nation has them similarly. Surely it took a beast to carve them and no land-dwelling dragon would have gone as far to do it unless it was Kaida herself.” He had an inkling that it wasn’t. The shock dwindled from his face the longer the Ex-Rider thought about it. A hand rose over his mouth, lips pursed as he thought. “I can imagine there was little contact with the Nation to begin with. They might have had ambassadors that traveled to the surface if anything... They may be more serpent than they are draconian, there could be both.”
“Most of Nightwing’s conflict happened above ground… there wasn’t a battle that wasn’t on land. Those wars drove the dragons away just as time itself did… we don’t know what or who will be down there. We need to be careful.” Still, it put a feeling of excitement in his chest… he was supposed to be searching for a dragon of shadows and thunder, not an aquatic beast. With one glance over to Tempest, however, he could feel the irony of it all. Once again, they wouldn’t know until they saw for themselves.
Another low, reverberating hum came of Irrlith. This time it was brief for a hum of approval. “I will take you. It is in the greater depths of this sea.”
“You know where the entrance is, we can follow… with a little preparation, we could be on our way this late afternoon.” Preparation? He knew what his body could handle in high altitude and lesser oxygen, but what about the high-pressure depths and no oxygen? With a little time, he'd find something in that spellbook of his to manage it.
"You little shit, I'll get Draven to make a toothpick out of you--"
"Found ya~"
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