Private Tales Isle of Dragons/Son of Stroms

[Masaru]

The smell of fresh rain rose from his huge form with the waves of steam that drifted off his scales. Early morning on the Isles of Sheketh were like this. He had not yet made a true den for himself and truth be told, he enjoyed the cool night air more than he remembered.

A huge silver eye cracked open as the sounds of night birds and insects changed in the distance, he had been here for several weeks now, and he could feel the changes in their calls now. He had been careful to reduce the effect of his extended presence on the island but somethings he could not control completely. One was the dense mist that rose while he slept, the other was the sensation of changes on his island.

Something had changed, something new, and he was nothing if not curious.

 

[Arthfael]

Once, a long time ago, his ancestors, or a distant kin of the Storm Giants, had a small port here. A bit of unfair winds had set him back, and it was closer to nightfall than he would like as he came in sight of the Isles of Sheketh. Still, he held the rudder on his modest little sloop. What might have strained a normal man barely registered in the brawn of the half-giant, his slate grey skin almost matching the sky.

A storm was due this eve, and he kept that in mind as he dropped anchor and set about securing the boat just shy of running aground. Quickly a pack was looped over his shoulders, and he took a bite of a dry ration as he simply stepped over the side and thudded into the surf in a spray of briny water and white sand.

With patience set in the man's eyes, he set to explore the nearby rocks. This spot had looked most likely for a cave to settle in. Something about the sea always settled him. A naval style cutlass was sheathed at his waist, and a boarding axe was drawn and resting on his shoulder.

Though he was far from aggressive, his size and obvious heritage would put almost anyone at ill ease.

 

[Masaru]

The huge silver beast that was Masaru flapped his great wings as he launched himself skyward. His gleaming scales caught light from the sky like a mirror as he strove for the stars. His long equine neck stretched out straight. His snout pointed upward as he gained height. His wings sought and found the strong currents of warm air and his circle of the island began in rapidly growing concentric lines.

'There.' He tought as he finally spotted the large ship just off the shore. With little concern and no warning he turned his great scaled form toward the small bay and made for the rocky ground.

He landed lightly, for a dragon, and sent small debris and sand from between the rocks flying in all directions from the force of his massive wings. Nose tasting the air he turned his head to gaze at the being among the rocks and who seemed to be the sole being to disembark from the ship.

"And what might you be?" The Brightstar rumbled as he lazily turned toward the giant.

 

[Arthfael]

A dragon. Silver. His mind searched quickly, but he hadn't really encountered one, so only knew the bare minimum. He did know that they knew of and tended to have good relations with Cloud and Storm giants. Iffy with humans. Best not be submissive, all dragons had a tone of arrogance. But he'd rather not test himself against a fully grown beast as this on his own with an overt display of challenge either.

Drawing himself up to full height, he spoke. His voice, as always, was a low baritone rumble that sounded like echoes of thunder in an oceanic cove. Light reflected off of his silvery-blue irised eyes, and he used the name his father had told him he picked from the language of his mother's people.

"Arthfael. Son of Arent and Gwaelynd. Just an explorer seeking traces of his ancestors. Tales say they had a port here, once. So I've as much right as you to this surf by my reckoning."

Masaru

 

[Masaru]

Masaru blinked down at the giantling. Bold for something so young.

"Is that your reckoning?" The dragon said as he leaned his snout down toward the small giant. "Perhaps during your next reckoning session you might reckon yourself some manners?"

Masaru raised his head back and sat back on his haunches so he was nearly at his full one hundred foot height. He made a show of yawning and spread his wings. He flapped his giant wings a few times to fan himself and then settled the wings back against his sides.

"These islands are my territory now." He boomed as if telling the world and not just the giant. "Still, your kind is rare, too rare for eating. If only you had at least offered a wave, a smile, a bow of acknowledgment. I may have even helped you out of sheer curiosity. Now, I have half a mind to take your ship and leave it on a mountain somewhere. What do you think of that, Storm chaser?"

 

[Arthfael]

"Acknowledging tyrants is hardly my way. These islands are yours by what? Violence and death is the way of conquerors and most of your kind. I have little respect for that. Take my ship and we will have words, no matter how sure death may be after. Respect is earned, wyrm."

Wyrms were, to his limited knowledge, not highly regarded in dragon-kin. It wasn't quite an insult, but it was far from respectful. Little wisps of blue light had gathered in the corners of his eyes as his temper flared talking. His mothers kin had some influence, though he had learned that even their innate magic and ability had cost for a half-blooded one such as him.

Masaru