/muffled dragonforce in the distance

[monolike]

Who: Sorey (moonlike), Mikleo (nerdeology) & YOU!
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Solrius’s surface, scattered
When: 9/6 thru 9/10

[Some people are saying that Solrius is cursed. There’s a powerful storm moving around, with wind that screams and tears roofs from houses, rain that floods roads within minutes and lightning that ignites voracious fires which devour acres of forest. Some people can hear the beating of wings and roaring. Some people even swear they saw a damn dragon breathing fire and ice.

Fewer in number are reports of a boy with the dragon, but when questioned, nobody could say what his face looked like.]


(( Please see the OOC post for details! ))

Comments

MIKLEO - ALONE

[nerdeology]

( a: please do not pet the dragon. )

[There is a deep, unsettling chill permeating the area. It's out of season - or perhaps merely too early - but there is snow on the ground, light patches at first, and if one were to follow the trail, the level of it would only grow until the snow is thick enough to cover half of a boot. Up a hill a good distance away from an unremarkable town, ice shards pepper the landscape, unnaturally flawless and unaffected by the temperature outside.

Curled up in the center of it all is a dragon, seemingly asleep. It looks quite cozy. It's a shame that its presence is creating quite a stir down below.

Dragons cast a domain of their own, so even those without resonance should feel a sense of dread when approaching the hill, although it's easy to play off on the fact that hey, you are approaching a dragon. It can also sense when someone has entered their domain, so it might be tricky to sneak up on it, but maybe...]


( b: oh no. you pet the dragon. )

[Forget the ice, forget the nap. Either it was disturbed by an attack, or the malevolence and natural aggression of its kind has kicked in without its master nearby to redirect it- whatever the reason, the dragon is in the middle of terrorizing a local town. Collapsed buildings, ruined landmarks, scattered livestock, plenty of noises-- someone poked the bull, and now they get to deal with the fallout.

It seems more interested in making a mess and scaring people off rather than actively killing anyone, so that's... nice... but there's still plenty of property damage, and the residents are freaking out, so a few dragon-hunters might be welcome.]


( c: butterflies in the sk- nope, sorry, it's still a dragon. )

[Mortals sure are inconvenient. Trying to escape all the fighting, the dragon has moved to the sky now, circling overhead a territory it has temporarily claimed for itself. It's not at an outrageous height, but it's still out of reach for most, and it doesn't seem particularly inclined to come down and play. A good long-ranged attack might draw its attention, if someone is foolish enough to try.]



(( before tagging please note my hiatus, just as an FYI that I will be slow.

For larger groups or those in a hurry, feel free to NPC the dragon using this info in your own top level! ))

( B ) HELLO MY HAWKE AND I WILL BE YOUR CHEW TOY TODAY

[ofkirkwall]

[ Hawke doesn't wait to think, doesn't wait to strategize. She rushes in head long, weaving through the crumbling buildings that were once homes. It has never been her strong suit and today she doesn't like the idea of waiting, not today.

Something isn't right. The air feels thick, almost putrid, simply breathing leaves a bad taste in her mouth. This isn't your average run of the mill 'raw-I'm'-hungry-let-me-snack-on-puny-mortals' dragon. There is something that makes Hawke's skin crawl, her stomach churn. A feeling that builds the closer she gets, slick and uncomfortable, like she's been standing near red lyrium for too long. It might be too much for her and yet she runs in, staff drawn.

Climbing on top of a pile of rubble she twirls her staff around, lips curled into a tight grin, knuckles white around the wood. Bile rises to her throat but she swallows it down, summoning flames to the focus crystal of her staff. Another spin of the staff and the flames go hurtling towards the dragon's head, a second follows quickly as she yells: ]

Hey! Big ugly and scaly!

[ Come play with her pretty dragon. ]

( B ) roasted bird is my favourite

[nerdeology]

[The town is nothing but a distraction for the dragon, but it's entertaining, at the very least. The feeling of malevolence swells in his domain as people see him and flee, as pain and wonder and hate and fear come together like a fine wine for him to drink in. It's all instinctual, of course- there are no clear thoughts in his head anymore, but he knows that when he roars, people scream, and when he breathes the world burns. That's enough for him.

The fire has minimal effect on him; it bounces harmlessly off of glistening scales built to repel the element, and as he turns to face Hawke, he catches the second one between his jaws, huffing out half a breath of ice-fire to put it out. The fire does have the intended effect of getting his attention, however, and with a snarl he returns the favour, releasing a strong, steady gust of his own flames. Shoo, fly, he's busy.]

[ofkirkwall]

[ Fire has no effect? Well she isn't that surprised, doesn't have the time to be the dragon's steady gust of flames surging towards her causing her to curse. No time. Swiftly she twirls her staff in her hand and slams it down into the rubble, in front of her a wall of thick ice rises from the ground shielding her - though not completely. The way is quick to melt in the face of the heat but grants her enough time to move, escape the line of fire and attack again.

Purple lightning dances between her fingers, snaking up her arm and along her shoulders. If fire doesn't do much but tickle she'll just attack with something else, she is a rather versatile mage after all. The lightning arcs off it her, snaps at the air, and she directs it with another flourish towards the beast. Might hurt, might just annoy, doesn't matter really this fly is not going to be scared off with just a little bit of flames. ]

Come on, dance with me.

[nerdeology]

[The dragon had already turned his attention elsewhere, expecting the fire to be a sufficient scare tactic, but the lightning strike regains his focus. This attack earns her a roar of anger and actual pain this time; spark lance over the dragon's flank, and he lurches to the side as if to escape the sensation, wings thrashing against the sky. He's more ice than fire now, but remnants of his old element still exist within him, and the lightning is conducted nicely over his armored flesh.

Now she's a legitimate threat, and while it hadn't caused his body much damage, it's still enough to draw him down off of the building, stalking towards her on all fours, his giant fangs bared and growling. He'd been avoiding devouring humans, for Sorey's sake, but he'll make an exception for some.]

[ofkirkwall]

Ooh, that looked like it hurt.

[ She shouldn't be so pleased, really, shouldn't grin like a madwoman as the beast turns and stalks towards her. But she is and she does, glancing around herself before scrambling to move, find some better footing. Another bolt of lightning hisses through the air towards him as she scrambles, just to keep him angry, focused.

It's a short move that accomplishes very really, with it's larger stride the dragon will still reach her in moments. But this way she can move easier, maybe weave between his legs if she gets lucky. Either way she's gonna face the blighted thing head on. ]

[nerdeology]

[He manages to half-block the next bolt with a twist of his wing, just in time- it still hits, of course, and it still hurts, but it doesn't catch him in the face, so it mostly just makes him angry. It's effective in accomplishing her goal, though unfortunately it comes hand-in-hand with him moving faster towards her, looking to snap her up in his jaws.

The downside of being so much larger and more bulky is that he's much slower than he used to be, and that makes him easier to dodge, but with all of those stomping feet (with massive claws accompanying them), it's a precarious way to dodge.]

[ofkirkwall]

[ Those jaws look deadly, certainly not something she wants to be caught up in anytime soon so she dives forward into his charge. A movement by no means graceful nor spare her any damage. She lands on her knees, skidding forward, avoiding the jaws though only to be subjected to those large lumbering feet. The claws she avoids but not the shockwave of his stomps, one of which pushes her out from underneath him into something solid.

Right, stay away from the head and feet. Fangs and claws likely to do a lot of damage, could ruin her perfect face. Can't have that.

She's quick to her feet, to move in close, lightning surging from her staff once more. By her movements it seems as though she is trying to get around him, find some way to get onto his back. Find somewhere soft and vulnerable to plunge the bladed end of her staff into, shock him to the Void and back. See how he likes that. ]

[nerdeology]

[He's lost sight of her - stupid rat creatures, always scurrying - and twists his body around, movements jerky from the arc of lightning dancing across his flesh. He spins with surprising speed for a beast of his size, wings and tail becoming weapons in their own right. He doesn't have to see her to kill her. If he can make her stop moving, then the lightning will go away, and then he can eat her at his leisure.

Sorey won't mind. She attacked him, first. There are rules, and surely if Mikleo doesn't kill her, Sorey will do it for choosing so poorly.]

[wolfuncaged]

[Why is it that Hawke can always find the blighted dragons? That's what Fenris would like to know. Not that he's complaining really. He's missed the heat of battle. After all, fighting is quite literally what he was made for. It's nice to attack something without too many whiny repercussions about it.

So, there's a glowing blue blur coming at the dragon's blind side, letting Hawke be a nice sparky distraction. He'll swing his sword at the dragon's side, hoping to meet his mark before the damn thing spins around again and tramples him. ]

[ofkirkwall]

[ Whether it is the wings or the tail that hit she isn't sure, which ever it was it hurts her hard. Eyes widen, the wind knocked clean from her lungs, and the force sending her flying once again. Her back hits a wall, staff flying from her hand, sharp pain spreading across her limbs like wildfire.

Haha, she might be in a little over her head.

She laughs, cringing, glancing up at the beast just as the sharp scent of lyrium enters her nose. A potion? No. Fenris. Catching the blur out of the corner of her eye Hawke swears, pushing herself up to search for her staff. Shit, shit, shit, Maker's blighted dick! ]

WILDCARD

[monolike]

[That Sorey doesn't like killing actually hasn't changed all that much, despite his transformation. As such he'd rather chase people off so Mikleo can destroy their property, because Mikleo sure doesn't care about people dying. Burning things seems to work out well and Mikleo likes to circle overhead and watch the fires, but when Sorey gets stuck between a raging forest fire and some approaching combatants, well-

Okay his options aren't limited, but he's done here. None of this is bringing him any closer to getting Zaveid and Dezel back. He glances up at where Mikleo is drifting lazily and calls out him through their bond. Where the heck did he fly off too? Usually he'd have scoops Sorey up by now...]

[nerdeology]

[It's hard to focus, once some distance has been placed between he and Sorey. His thoughts are clouded, disjointed, and while Sorey's presence remains a fixed point in his soul, like a waymarker in the dark, when there's no line of sight he grows much more easily distracted.

It's not Sorey's fault that he's land-bound; there's no helping that, but after discovering the joys of flight, sometimes it's hard to come down again. On occasion he'll find something worth examining on the world below. Most of the time the joy of the discovery comes hand in hand with the joy of destroying it. He'd found an entire herd of deer mere moments ago and had razed the meadow to ice shards and ashes, sent them scattering. He'd devoured half a dozen before he'd even come close to feeling full. He was so hungry... like there was a hole in his stomach that couldn't be sealed up with meat.

Maybe he should just eat people.

....Sorey wouldn't like that. He shouldn't eat people.

With an unsatisfied snarl he grasps one more carcass in his jaws, launching off into the sky. He can feel the tug now, that familiar pull that isn't urgent, not yet, but is bordering on impatience. He's coming, he's coming.]

[monolike]

[GET HERE FASTER

Sorey knocks the combatants away with gusts of wind, which are just fanning the flames behind him and spreading them further around. DANGIT okay, maybe he can just summon another rainstorm? But that might bug Mikleo flying around; or, more likely, it'll distract him and he'll want to fly around in the rain for a while instead of listen. He's getting harder and harder to control-

Persuade. He's getting harder to talk to. Not control.] Not control, [Sorey mutters to himself angrily. Nightingale was wrong. He's not controlling Mikleo. He's- he's helping him.]

Mikleo, are you coming down or what?! [One of the combatants screams when Sorey hits him a little too hard, slams into a nearby wall and doesn't get back up. Yeugh, so he could be dead. That's a shame.]

[nerdeology]

[The answer is yes, a moment later, as as a dead, half-eaten deer drops from out of nowhere and lands on the one closest to Sorey, knocking him flat with a bloody squelch. The dragon loops around, setting free a deafening roar, and forces their enemies to scatter and reconsider their tactics. One more sweep past the area, and he spits a massive arc of ice-fire, a circlet of ethereal blue flames lighting up the ground below.

Only then does he glide down and land with enough force to make the earth shake, screaming his rage at the would-be heroes for threatening what is his.]

[monolike]

You're so terrifying, [Sorey tells him, all affection as he jogs over and reaches up to grab onto one of Mikleo's spines and give his head a gentle shake.] All right, all right. They get the picture. I'm yours. [What did he drop over there, a deer? He must've been eating. Poor guy, he's always so hungry like this...but he never eats humans. He's so wonderful. Sorey really doesn't deserve him.]

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo's response is a deep rumble, half-irritation, half-pleasure; he loves to be praised, but he's not fond of the forceful interruption, either. If Sorey had come with him in the first place, this wouldn't have been a problem. Why he's so obsessed with finding the others... it's irritating, so irritating.

Nevertheless, he bows his head lower and tilts it sideways, lifting Sorey off his feet and giving him a chance to climb up on his neck. Only when Sorey is a light, familiar weight on his back does he twist his body around, tearing up the landscape with a thrash of his tail, sending a few more of the men flying. He considers the dead deer for a moment, then snorts aggressively and spreads his wings, bracing himself for a lift-off. The flames had gone and ruined the meat, it's overcooked and soggy now. He may be a dragon, but he still has standards when it comes to his cooking.]

[monolike]

[Sorey has to half-hide himself in Mikleo's horns and spines to keep from being torn clear off his back; it's not comfortable, but it is interesting to be soaring through the air like this. It's times like these that made him wonder why the hell everyone thought being a dragon must be so horrible. Mikleo can't hate this, can he?]

You mad at me? [Sorey scratches at Mikleo's neck, flattening himself against his scales. C'monn. C'mooonnnn.]

[nerdeology]

[The dragon growls, the anger only half-feigned at first, but it's hard to resist when one is bound by the soul to another. After a long moment he finally relents, his snarls fading into the equivalent of a dragon's purr. He's angry, yes, and perpetually aggressive now, but he just can't stay mad at this one. It isn't as if he'd allow them to be separated for long- what would that sort of anger accomplish?

He'd rather be angry at the world, the people, the land, the earth and sky, everything, everything--

He shakes his great head, releasing a breath of chilly air to refocus himself, and tilts his body towards another mountain. The air is clean and fresh higher up. If he really wants the wind seraphim, if that will make him happy, perhaps that would be a better place to look.]

[monolike]

[Mikleo rumbles beneath him and Sorey pets his scales soothingly. It’s better this way. Mikleo doesn’t have to be afraid of anything; he’s powerful enough to keep himself safe, and malevolence actually makes him stronger. This is the best thing, their surest option of staying together, of Sorey keeping Mikleo safe and alive. When he’d gotten sick, when he gets hurt, it-

Enough. Geez. It’s so damn hard to think sometimes.]

I’ve been thinking, Mikleo, [Sorey rubs along his neck, resting his cheek against a horn. It’s cold and the air is thin this high up; good thing he’s a hellion-

NO NO NO

-now. Otherwise this would be a lot more uncomfortable than it is.] I thought it should just be us; you know, you and me, and the others. But it occurred to me that even if humans and seraphim are different, we all turn into hellions when there’s malevolence. Isn’t that interesting?

A I guess XD

[bythewaves]

Once, long ago, as Men and Elves both count time, Maglor was lord of the plains of Lothlann, the wide grassy lands that lay in the gap between the mountain ranges, the weak point of the ring of defence that the Noldor set around Morgoth and his forces. Maglor's Gap, they called it, and his calvary were swift and deadly, and for four and a half centuries they held it, against all that the Enemy could throw against him.

And then Morgoth bred the first dragons.

Later, they would call it the Dagor Bragollach - the Battle of Sudden Flame - when the Father of Dragons first issued forth and the green plains were burnt black. Maglor's memories of the time are fire and pain, smoke and ash, and the knowledge that he failed to hold, and his kinfolk would now suffer. His hatred for dragons is old and deep (his fear is equally so), and when the townsfolk speak of dragons he sets his face to the mountains.

(They got very good at killing dragons, over the years... but Maglor is handicapped, and alone. He should tell his brother, he should tell his cousins. He does not.)

He walks in shadow, the world bending to hide him, a silent ghost. He needs to know if there truly is something out there.

[nerdeology]

It shouldn't take long to confirm those suspicions; a dragon of this scale is difficult to hide, and he need only follow the trail of snow and ice to come across it. Amidst the elements, Mikleo circles about like an agitated cat, snarling at nothing. He can sense someone trespassing within his domain, but he can't get a fixture of what or where the intruder might be. In an attempt to make some sort of barrier, perhaps scare whoever it is away, he exhales a circlet of flames along the path ahead, melting the snow and setting fire to the grass beneath- a magical blue flame that remains lit regardless of how damp the ground is.

Mikleo isn't satisfied with that, and goes back to pacing, claws grinding into the ground with every step. Where is it...?

[bythewaves]

A winged cold drake. Maglor's lips thin, feral light in his eyes, and his hands twitch over his new blades.

But he is alone, and he is not quite that crazy.

When Mikleo breathes fire he falls back, eyeing the flames thoughtfully. Those are not normal, and will be a problem for any who comes out to hunt them.

Curious to see how much they are like actual fire he eyes Mikleo's progress, and when the beast is at a good enough distance in his pacing he reaches out to the flames, a low curl of Song to nudge at them and gauge if he can snuff the flames.

[nerdeology]

The flames are unnatural in multiple ways, but they aren't especially powerful, either. Born of both ice and fire at once, it might take more coaxing than expected. Bit by bit, the power within the flames can be tamed, but that also has the side effect of attracting Mikleo back to where he can feel his artes being tampered with.

The dragon stalks closer once more, frost forming around his muzzle. He sniffs the air once, twice, digs his claws into the dirt near where his fire had burned. He exhales a burst of steam, watching where it flows.

And then he tilts his head to look straight at where Maglor is, unseeing, but knowing, and all but screams his outrage at the intrusion. There is water in his voice, but it flows with the force of a tsunami- a wild tempest of anger, hatred, animalistic instinct and unhappily tethered power.

Get out, it says. Leave this place or die.

[bythewaves]

Hmph. Maglor does not poke at them long before Mikleo is turning back. I will need to ask Finrod. The Arafinwean side of the family was always better at this sort of thing.

As Mikleo hunts, Maglor pulls Song closer around himself - he's there, but not there, so much a part of the world that he fades into it, as indistinguishable and unremarkable as a rock or a tree. Eyes skip over him, and the mind cannot hold the memory of him. He frowns thoughtfully at the scream - a cold drake, but that sound is water, and there was ice in the flames. Something is very definitely fishy here, but the dragon obviously knows someone is here, and Maglor is not crazy enough to tempt fate much more than this.

Still. He has learnt much today, not least the realisation with that last cry that there is someone holding it's leash.

Quietly, he backs away. He'll be back once he's passed on word, but only to a distance to watch.