She dreams of the desert with its sweltering heat and endless sand dunes. There is a haze on the horizon, but something seems to be up ahead. At first, Lucinda thinks it to be a mirage, but she can just make out the form of a dragon. The light catches its scales just right to show a violet sheen and when the creature turns, their eyes meet.
But that is where the dream ends. Her eyes snap open and she is back in her home in the cool canyon. It's the same dream she's been having for a few days now, but this had been different. This time she saw the dragon's eyes and she knew- Abraxia.
Her dragon familiar had been left back in her home world, but she thought her to be dead by now. The traitors who ambushed Lucinda's family captured their dragons, but Abraxia had to have escaped. There's something in her telling her this is more than just a dream. It's like she can feel her familiar close, but yet she's still too far away. Now that she saw those eyes, she knows it has to be a sign. Now it's time to find her.
So she sets off for the desert, carrying her staff with her. That same intense sunlight beats down on her now as her hooves sink into the sand with each step. One thing about the desert is there are no clear landmarks, so one may as well be looking for a needle in a haystack. Thankfully, Lu had lived here long enough and therefore had a pretty good sense of direction. It's just making sure she's going in the right direction of her dragon.
"Abraxia," she calls out with her mind. There is no response, but Lu remains hopeful.
Then she sees the blood spatter in the sand. It's very faint, but it's something.
(Open to anyone who wants to help Lu find her dragon <3)
Though every land Thaeron passed through was in the throes of autumn, trees half-dressed in their colourful adornments, the rest spread far and wide by the biting wind, here he found himself amidst the humid temperatures of a desert.
As far as the eye could see, sand rose and fell in lazy dunes, shadowed by red cliffs towering over all in the distance. Grit clung to the fur of his hooves, painting the blue of his fur with speckles of orange. Bloodbane was strapped across his shoulder and back, a familiar weight even as the metal warmed beneath the sun’s gaze, a sharp bite across his dark skin. Beneath the thick of his hair, sweat clung to his coat, shining and gleaming and annoying. The fallen god would take the cold bite of the Stormy Mountains in Alanaris over the burning lash of the desert sun any day. But Alanaris lay far behind him and this gods-forsaken desert spread out in front. What he wouldn’t give for Valdis’ wings and eyes in the sky right now, checking for threats, searching for a path. Alas, the Stormbringer had remained in Alanaris, prowling the slopes of the mountains, their mental connection severed by the distance between them.
Climbing the gentle rise of a sand dune, his hooves sliding and digging into the sand as it cascaded in his wake, the war-god spots a figure hewn of onyx upon his peripheral. Hooked wings extend from silken shoulders, a gleaming green stone set in a wooden staff catching the light of the sun. Thaeron will not deny the relief that filters through him at the sight of another, particularly given the certainty with which they walk the desert. Picking up his pace the stallion half slides, half trots, down the descent of the dune, silently cursing the sand that climbs its way up his sides with each thump of his feathered hooves upon the ground. Beneath the humid tasting air he detects the scent of the other, a mare he realises once he is close enough to discern her features from the shadow of her coat.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a map would you?” The joke is accompanied by a charming grin and a chuckle once he is close enough for the deep timbre of his voice to carry, falling into the determined rhythm of her steps a few metres to her left.
It's not long before Lucinda realizes she's not alone. A man makes his way over, his thick mane blowing lazily in the desert breeze. She admires the large weapon he has strapped behind him- an aged war hammer. There is a tinge of red that glistens off the metal when the sun hits it just right. For a moment, she's curious just how powerful the blade is. It does not seem like the man has come to fight as he comes to stand by her side, towering over her. Truthfully, he is not too hard on the eyes either.
When he asks of a map, it's clear that the stallion must not be from around here. Even so, she finds herself matching his smile with one of her own. "Regretfully, I do not. Although," she replies, looking him over with a raised brow. "You're lucky to have found me. The desert is not too kind to wanderers." And it's true- one can easily get lost with nothing but sand dunes. Between the scorching heat of the day and the icy cold of the night, the deserts of Solterra can be a dangerous place if one is not careful enough.
Lucinda takes another look down at the ground again, staring at the blood spatter in the sand. "Apparently, it does not take too kindly to those who are searching either…" she mutters. She knows there has to be a connection to it all. Her dream felt so real and the plea in Abraxia's eyes is not something she can ignore. Something pulls her forward, but it's only a feeling and does not include a sense of direction. Of course. Perhaps there is a trail of blood if she looks close enough… The ebony mare takes a few steps forward, fixated on the ground beneath her.
Then she looks back at the man again, a hint of mischief in her smile. "They say dragons lurk the lands of Novus. Have you seen one before?" Conveniently, she does not disclose that the dragon she seeks is her companion, Abraxia. This is not information the man needs to know (maybe not yet, or ever). For now, she seeks information in case he may have seen something in his own travels. Part of her hopes he has to give her a better head start on this search.
Thaeron does not miss the gaze the ebony femme casts at Bloodbane, admiring the scarred, aged hammer. It had seen almost as much bloodshed and destruction over the centuries as he. A knowing smirk paints his handsome visage but rather than comment, he takes the chance to pass his ruby-hewn gaze swiftly over the winged woman while she is distracted. She is beautiful- in a dark and sinister way, though her smile brightens up the shadows of her face as she grins at his statement.
“Oh I’m very lucky, I’m sure. But what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” A charming grin dances easily across his lips, lighting up his eyes playfully. It’s hard to imagine that those lips had been painted in blood, those eyes filled with the bloodlust and glory of battle. It would be even harder to imagine that the roan steed had been the patron of death, the lord of destruction. And the disgrace of the Gods.
As her emerald gaze is cast to the ground, muttering quietly about searching, and the winged femme proceeds to wander forth, eyes still fixed to the sand, Thaeron notices now the blood staining the grit, the grin falling from his lips. The fallen god pauses as she steps away, giving her a sidelong glance with unmasked intrigue wrought upon his features. It seems that she, unlike him, is wandering the desert for more than just sight-seeing. Bloodbane is a familiar weight within the grip of his invisible hands as he glances around swiftly, now on high alert. Audits twitch but catch nothing beyond the unending silence, stretching as far as the sea of dunes. By the faint scent of the blood it is reasonably fresh- and not equine in origin.
“Of course. My homeland, Alanaris, has many magical creatures, dragons included. We even have beings who can turn into dragons. They are magnificent creatures.” He pauses for a moment, reflecting the mischievous smile on her lips as he puts two and two together. “You know, if you’re hunting for dragons, two sets of eyes might be better than one.” He inclines his head with a dramatic flourish, eyes alight with laughter. “My lady, if you seek a dragon it would be my pleasure to aid you in your quest, if you but do me the honour of giving me your name.” It was clear he was no knight, not with the various golden hoops adorning his form and the mass of thick braids framing his face. But with humour dancing in his eyes he spoke as a knight might address a lady.
The man is charming indeed (and not too bad on the eyes), but Lu has met many men. They tend to be the same- bulked up (or think they are), fancy weaponry and/or armor, smooth talk. However, she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the attention. Having men wrapped around her could be quite useful.
"A woman like me?" she asks, raising her brows in an act of surprise. Though the ebony mare is more curious what he thinks she's like. She's certainly not like other women and she would be quick to show it.
At the question of dragons, it will likely be clear now what brings her out here. She does not disclose it's her dragon companion she seeks as that's not important. Maybe he will figure it out if they find Abraxia, but she's not about to endanger her companion by giving a stranger such knowledge. The man does seem to have a background with dragons, although the piece about those transforming into dragons piques her interest.
"Shapeshifting, hm?" she says, wondering for a moment what it would be like to live in the form of a dragon. All of the power she would possess, both physically and magically, would certainly be magnificent. Really, it's the damage she could cause that has her heart thrumming.
The man continues his smooth way of talking, offering his aid in Lucinda's quest for Abraxia. Only, he asks for her name, and she does not respond just yet for the sake of suspense. Instead, she leans in closer to study him. One would need to be fit for the task- was this man worthy? His weapon told a story with its blood stained sheen and unique features. She is almost tempted to run her nose over the axe blade to test its sharpness, but she refrains. Instead, she circles the man and gently brushes against one of his braids with her telekinesis. His red eyes are the color of freshly drawn blood.
"Lucinda," she finally says and it's like a secret being opened from a box. "Now it'd only be right to share your name, or I've just given up my identity for nothing." Her green eyes glow more vibrantly now, not from the sunlight, but from her magic. Her staff beside her does the same with the labradorite stone seemingly coming to life.
Then, there is a roaring in the distance. When Lucinda turns to the north, she swears she can see a faint outline of dragon wings. Another roar follows, but this one is more like anguish, while the other was anger. Her heart catches in her throat, but she hides her fear deep down so it cannot be seen.
"Let the quest begin," she declares, looking back at him with a daring smile, then begins to walk north. At least he may prove to be useful.
@Thaeron I don't know what's happening here, but I guess we're going with it LOL
“Oh of course, you seem more suited to walking a throne room than wandering a desert.” A wink accompanies the smooth velvet of his baritones, the ever present smirk wrought upon his dark lips. Indeed, through the centuries Thaeron had become a good judge of character and though he could glean little from the shadows of her face, there was something about the way she held herself and the iron-light in her eyes that made him wonder if she was forged to rule kingdoms.
Interest sets alight in the poison green of her eyes as he talked of the shifters, ones born with the ability to turn into a dragon. In truth, those cursed with power to walk in another form were hunted in his homeworld, for little more than a myth and the iron-cast law of a long dead tyrant king. There were those that had fought the cruelty of the regime, but even rumours of the infamous White Wolf had died out by the time Thaeron set out in search of new lands.
“It is not as fun as it sounds- most shifters are hunted and executed for their powers.” Despite the chuckle in his voice the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes then. The memories of watching the world turn to shit as century after century washed away the land he and his brethren had once presided over. He may have been the patron of destruction but Thaeron had never been cruel in his wars, never attempted to hunt a species to extinction.
For a moment silence followed his question as the keen-eyed mare regards him. Gracefully she begins to walk around him, as though seeing if he were up to the task. Thaeron resists the urge to tense his muscles, to show that the centuries had honed his form into the perfect weapon. Instead he stands perfectly still and watches the dark femme from the corner of his eyes as she circles him. The smirk never leaves his face, but this time it seems to take on a more dangerous, chaotic hint. There was nothing that could set his blood aflame more than the prospect of a fight. And the more dangerous the better.
“Lucinda,” he says, playing her name across his tongue, blood-hewn eyes glinting.
“Thaeronovian, but everyone calls me Thaeron.” In truth he hated his full name. Besides the weapon at his shoulder and the companion he’d left in Alanaris, it was the final ash of the life he’d burnt centuries ago.
Her glance is audacious, daring him to follow her and the fallen god is beginning to wonder which of them is the cat and which is the mouse. “Let the quest begin,” he repeats and strides to catch her up, his long legs easily matching her pace.
Her flirting is nothing more than a ruse, but it's entertaining. While she never goes much further than talk, the attention is flattering. He compliments her and if only he knew her history. Some days she misses standing atop the throne and looking down at her people and her land. Having all the authority to make decisions is something she misses at times. Unfortunately, back then she had been too naive to look for the signs of those working against her. Thus, the throne had been lost.
The man explains the shifters he knew were heavily hunted and executed. It seems like such a waste. Whoever sought them out clearly was a coward and had no real ambition. If they were smart, they'd use those with the abilities to their advantage rather than destroy them.
Thaeron. A fitting name to such a man, she thinks. Her gesture to follow did not get ignored and he quickly catches up to walk on by her side. Lucinda smiles.
As they move forward, the scenery does not seem to change. The desert goes for miles, but she starts to notice the blood spatters become more evident. Then suddenly, a loud screeching noise breaks the silence ahead. A large silhouette of a creature rises into the sky and she can tell immediately from the shape of its wings - a dragon.
Lu looks to Thaeron quickly, her eyes glowing a brilliant green. "Let's go!" she shouts over the dragon's cries and, without hesitation, picks up into a canter straight towards the dragon.
When they are closer, she realizes that there are two dragons, each about seven feet long and about as tall as her. One is on the ground looking badly wounded, likely the source of the blood spatters, and the other is hovering in the sky above. It looks down on the wounded dragon with hunger in its eyes and it roars, the sharp white teeth in its mouth glistening like daggers. Suddenly, it swoops down and attacks the other dragon like a savage, the weaker one crying out in pain. There is a quick flash of purple from the wounded creature's scales and Lu stumbles, feeling a sharp pain in her side just as the dragon from the sky bites down on the other.
No. It can't be.
The wounded dragon is wrapped in thick metal chains. Its eyes are the same brilliant green as Lucinda's and it cries out, searching for someone. For her.
It's Abraxia.
Immediately she grabs her staff and lunges at the dragon on top of Abraxia. She uses her front legs to push into it and her wings help her glide through the air to successfully push the dragon off and onto the ground. For a moment, she forgets Thaeron is with her and is completely focused on protecting her dragon.
Unfortunately, it seems to be much stronger than her as it immediately gets up and knocks Lu to the ground. She attempts to use her staff to hit it in the face, but she misses as it takes to the sky again, roaring more angrily than before. Lu looks at Thaeron now, hopeful.
"Now might be a good time to use that weapon of yours!" she shouts, eyeing the blade she had been admiring earlier. It surely saw much worse battles, but he must carry it for a reason.
Nearby, Abraxia cries out as she's weighed down by the chains attached to her feet. Lu starts to move to be by her side when she hears another roar. When she looks up, the other dragon is flying straight towards her, mouth wide open.
From God of War to sellsword and mercenary- oh how the mighty had indeed fallen. Of course, when it involved beautiful women and handsome men, Thaeron did not mind so much. But he always found there to be something demeaning (by comparison to his previous station) about following someone around just to get his fill of fighting. He hated taking orders, hated being told how to do his job, but as long as he could afford whiskey and find the odd someone with whom to spend his night, Thaeron could bare it. This however- following a trial of blood across the burning desert- ignited that long dead spark of heroism that had once enchanted his wife. The horned steed was no fool of course- he had seen the way Lucinda eyed his weapon but any chance for a fight and Thaeron was there.
It is not long before the blood spatters become thicker, more frequent and less sun-dried. Though one could not be sure of time in a desert where the horizon remained unchanging, the sun undimming. It was calm, in the way an endless sea of sun-baked dust could be. That was until the scream of a dragon pierced the air and two large forms appeared among the wavering fronds of heat on the horizon. An excited smile plays across Thaeron’s lips, dark and lethal and promising blood. He takes off after the ebony femme, a delighted skip in the powerful thrusts of his strong legs.
A scene emerges before them- two dragons entangled in combat, one looking a little worse for wear. Without hesitation, the winged mare leaps forward (though not before keening over as though in pain). Impressed by her courage, Thaeron watches as she leaps for the larger dragon. He dances on the side lines. Watching, waiting for his moment to strike.
“Ah but you were doing so well on your own.” His voice is a roar above the cries of the dragons, his eyes alight with the adrenalin and bloodlust of battle. Thaeron’s breath escapes his nostrils in forced snorts, his lips pulled back in a grim smile as he displays the pointed canines. Between the grasp of formless fingers he slides Bloodbane from his shoulder allowing it to hover threateningly in the air. But rather than wield the mighty hammer, Thaeron prepares to charge for the dragon as it swoops toward Lucinda. War drums sounded in his heart, the pump of blood through his veins pounding in his ears. The Fallen could have quite easily dispatched the dragon with his hammer- smash its skull with the blunt end or hack at its neck with the lethal blade. But where was the fun in that? Surprisingly quick for a creature his size, the stallion charges at the dragon with his horn point straight for its exposed side. Leaping into the air, so that he would collide with the dragon and not with Lucinda, he launches himself at the scaled creature. A growl leaves Thaeron’s parted lips. And then the sound of muscle hitting muscle and then bodies hitting the ground fills the air. The dragon bellows as Thaeron’s horn pierces his side and the pair tumble over and over into the sand, their bodies tangled. The thud that accompanies their fall is jarring and the wind is knocked from the steed’s lungs. Now Bloodbane strikes at the dragon as it too recovers, an extra limb to aid the stag while he untangles himself from the mass of scales and wings. He kicks out with his hooves, avoiding the snap of the reptile’s toothy maw as it continues to scream in anger.
And then pain lances through his left foreleg. An angered roar leaves his lips, loud and terrible as he tries to yank his leg from where the dragon gripped it in his mouth. Bloodbane slices and pummels at the beast, searching for a gap in the scaled armour. And then that angry roar turns into a mangled scream of pain and fury. Adrenalin spikes. Time slows. The dragon pulls free, throwing its head back with a triumphant roar. Blood droplets arch through the air. A gruesome star trail across the crystal blue. It hisses and fizzles in the heat, congealing in the sand. A steadily growing pool of red forms between the serpent and the stallion.
Agony, white hot and overbearing, dances up Thaeron’s leg and shoulder. Only adrenalin and centuries of training belay the instinct to scream. The instinct to collapse into the inviting bed of blood-stained sand beneath him. Bloodbane finds its mark and the dragon sinks to the ground with a dying hiss. And then silence reigns, pierced only by the jangle of metal chains on dark scales.
It angers her to be a damsel in distress. Before she even has a chance to react to the dragon lunging at her, Thaeron swoops in to fight it off. Lucinda narrows her eyes, despite the damage he's managing to cause on the dragon with both his horn and weapon. She wanted him to fight with her, not take her place in the fight.
Unfortunately, there is no point at which she has much chance to join in as the two are entangled together. The dragon roars in anger and agony while Thaeron is aiming his horn and his hammer is swinging in the air looking for bones to break. The mare decides to take this chance to try and relieve Abraxia of her chains. The dragon appears to be smaller than Lucinda remembers her and wonders if the metal is enchanted somehow. Unfortunately it appears they are tightly clipped on a collar around her neck, so she may need Thaeron's weapon to break it off. She clenches her jaw in irritation, so desperately wanting to set Abraxia free at last. She wanted to see her companion fly up into the sky with her massive wings covering the sun as they used to. In this case, her wings may not be quite as magnificent, but it would still be a sight worth seeing. She deserved to be free after all she must have gone through.
A cry of pain echoes through the air after all of the thudding and roaring. It sounds different from the dragon's and it makes Lucinda quickly turn around. The dragon has a good grip on the stallion's leg, who appears to be in great distress. He sinks into the sand and for a moment, she only just watches with slight disappointment. Until the hammer makes one final swing and the dragon is silenced by death.
She is no healer, but she approaches the man to inspect his leg. "Can you move it?" she asks, noticing the great amount of blood that is spilling out from the wound. Abraxia comes up behind Lu, her chains still dragging in the sand. She nudges the stallion with concern, her eyes heavy. Lu pets her dragon's cheek with the tip of her wing.
"I'm not sure how weak she is, but if we can get these chains off her, she may be able to help me carry you back to a healer I know," she offers, then looks at her dragon with a bit of disbelief. She can feel the mental link between them again- that invisible bond that is hard to explain. Never did she think they would be reunited. Not after the great battles in The Moors. There had been so much bloodshed- equines and dragons alike. She had been so sure that Abraxia had perished in the fight or would be the traitors' prisoner. The chains might've been theirs and she managed to finally escape.
What's hard for Lucinda is to show her appreciation for the man's actions. He acted like a knight in shining armor, but she had intended for them both to fight. She is not the type of woman to let others battle for her since she's more than capable. This time though, she knows she should say something because of how important Abraxia means to her.
"Thank you," she finally manages to say, her voice a bit quieter. "This is Abraxia. We are bonded." It surprises her that she decides to confide this information to him, but she decides he deserves it after holding up his promise to fight. Now hopefully, they might be able to get the chains of the dragon and get him to a better place than the endless sands of the desert.
When he wasn’t playing necromancer, Thaeron always loved to be the hero. It was an undeniable quality in him that both irked some and pleased others. It was never because the warrior considered his companions incapable- in fact he often surrounded himself with equally strong people. It was simply that some innate part of him, some wild recklessness that burnt like a forest fire in his veins when the silent drums of war sounded, bade him save others. Call it selfishness if you want, but he would always be the first to fight, the first to jump in.
Too engrossed in the fight, the thrum of his heart in his ears, in tandem to the pounding of his hooves against scales, Thaeron did not consider why Lucinda was helping the other dragon. Vaguely in the back of his mind the steed heard the clink of chains as the winged mare attempted to remove the confinements.
In Alanaris, Thaeron would fight whatever he was paid to fight. Kill whatever he was paid to kill. Besides shapeshifters and mermaids of course. But that was far from glamorous work. More often than not he served as protection, hired muscle to criminals or hunters, or an expendable sword if the royal armies didn’t want to lose their own. It was a far cry from leading battles, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies, at the head of armies of thousands. Gods he missed his glory days. But perhaps he was out of practice- a dragon presented a far greater challenge than peasants wielding pitchforks or bandits with clubs. More likely he was just overly cocky, trying to impress the ebony woman behind him.
Either way, it cost him dearly.
As the pain ricocheted from his ankle to his knee, searing every nerve, the snap of bone and tear of flesh was sickeningly audible. And the silence that followed the dragon’s demise was even worse. As the adrenalin slowly subsided, the sounds of the short lived battle quieted. Thaeron’s eyes still gleamed with anger and mirth but they were dulling as the blood slowly ebbed from his leg and the pain filtered in properly. A growl left his lips, followed by a string of colourful curse words that would make even the most foul-mouthed sailor gag. Luckily they were not in the common tongue and no one but the fallen God knew what blasphemy he had uttered. The world took on a sort of shining quality as it tilted and spun from the loss of blood, almost akin to being drunk. He might have laughed were the circumstances different. As it was his breath was coming out in rough growls, his chest heaving as he fought the pain.
Thaeron didn’t hear Lucinda approach over the roaring in his ears and the headache that was slowly developing. “Can you move it?”Teeth bared in an ugly grimace, eyes narrowed, he bit back the pain long enough to move his thigh. Only… his calf stayed where it way, lying in a growing pool of blood. The stallion’s face slackened, his eyes growing wide as the realisation hit him. “It’s…it’s not moving.” Aghast, the words were fumbled, stumbling from dry lips. Thaeron was not unfamiliar with gruesome word wounds. He’d seen worse. He’d inflicted worse. But right now he felt sick to his stomach. He needed to staunch the bleeding, he needed to… he needed too. He couldn’t think properly.
The sounds of the metal chains is a blessed distraction and he focuses on that, watching the dragon with too-bright eyes. “I take it you two know each other?” His words are a feeble attempt at a joke, especially when they come out more gruffly than the stallion had intended. Strength waning, Bloodbane rises unsteadily from the sand, stain freshly red. Poised to strike the metal, the weapon shakes as his concentration fades. “Perhaps you should do it?” He offers the hilt to her, worried that he might cut more than metal in this state.
At the mare’s soft acknowledgment, Thaeron meets her gaze- his clouded by pain. “My pleasure,” he says dryly, in too much pain to give her more than a half-hearted smile. Perhaps they could both be thankful the shock was preventing him from coming to terms with exactly what he had just lost, otherwise his mood might have been far less pleasant. “Perhaps we can get out of here now?”
