Kaavak
(#52813813)
Level 25 Banescale
Familiar
Disoriented Spirit
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Banescale
This dragon is an ancient breed.
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
8.82 m
Wingspan
5.34 m
Weight
811.07 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Metallic (Banescale)
Metallic (Banescale)
Obsidian
Alloy (Banescale)
Alloy (Banescale)
Obsidian
Wraith (Banescale)
Wraith (Banescale)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Banescale
Max Level
STR
133
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
40
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Biography
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» K A ' A V A K «
Wyvern The Black Dread |
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 ◇ S T R E N G T H ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬ I N T E L L E C T ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬ A G I L I T Y ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬ W I L L P O W E R ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬ M A G I C ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬▬ ♫ |
» Biography
Wyverns stem from a time long before the true dragon breeds now known emerged - an essence of primordial power before words and formed alliances began to taint the once pure line and bring about a shift in power that favoured intellect and scowled upon brute strength. She is perhaps the purest essence of that time, but even she was been befouled by those lesser than her. Those of Shal'anir call her 'Ka'avak', for that is what she appears to respond to. In another lifetime she might have had another name, or perhaps none at all. Her history is lost, and the waters are clouded; with her standing as one of the sole memories of an entire lineage centuries past. Ka'avak hails from the same old order of Shal’anir that Aer and Sekk also come from - albeit even older. How the order came upon the wyverns is unknown even by those most intricately involved with the order, for the large size of wyverns doesn’t make life within the Tangled Wood easy, but it is known that the relationship was a symbiotic one. The wyverns had no true need for the old order, but something they had offered was of value, and the wyverns stuck close to reap the benefits. In their lands, small broods of wyverns began to gather. For the most part, they were impassive watchers, hunting and breeding in the area that was free from those who would harm them. Some paragons of the old order sought to form bonds with the beasts, using them as allies in battle and learning their ways with keen interest. Several became known for this bond they could forge - but it had to be natural and could generally only be done with the younger ones who were yet to grow unruly with older age. Ka'avak was one of their most prized, for she was the matriarch of a particularly desirable brood. She has scales of obsidian, translucent wings to match, eyes that burned pure sapphire, and fire of the same hue. She is oddly at home within the Tangled Wood, often sheltering within the branches of Shal’anir or one of the large caverns that run along the nearby cliffs. None within the old order were truly capable of controlling the matriarch, and it was only when her kin fell in gruesome battle and their harrowing death cries pierced the air that she would come; an image of deadly grace and vengeful beauty to tear asunder those who dared harm her children. Yet, when the order began to fall and struggled to survive, Ka'avak had no sympathy for those she'd once allied with. At some point, naturally gifted paragons who understood the wyverns and truly sought to become one with them were lost. Harsher techniques were used for the more unruly children, breaking their resolve and harnessing them through magic and steel alike. The wyverns began to grow smaller and smaller with each passing brood, until some didn't even reach the size of a skydancer, and as tempers frayed, so did the allegiance between the two sides. |
They had killed her children, torn at her scales, and brought such ill fate upon her and her own that it was with a sense of satisfaction Ka'avak watched as their champions began to leave them. Those who allowed such cruel practises were defenceless and, as the tides shifted, Ka'avak began to turn on them - slowly picking them off one by one. Eventually, picking off a few turned into a massacre - the wyverns soon seeking to tear down Shal’anir from her very roots in retribution for what they'd done. They were successful, with the tree sustaining considerable damage and the sacred halls within decimated, but many of her kin were lost to the bloodshed, and although Ka'avak was granted the satisfaction of seeing those who once used her as a weapon bleed out, she sealed her own fate.
Those who had died would never come back. Perhaps a dozen, or less, had survived, but they'd fled to all corners of Sornieth after the massacre. Although Ka'avak had been granted her one wish, to see the old order crumble to its knees under the power of those they'd believed they could once control, she had made a terrible mistake. No doubt, in time, the last remaining wyverns would all fall. She, too, would eventually see her last breath drawn, and, as all wyverns were, be doomed to be lost forevermore.
For years, Ka'avak slept deep beneath Shal'anir - hidden by a wall of the behemoth's own blood to keep her weapon safe. It wasn't until Sekk, the Deathsayer, came to Shal'anir that the wyvern awoke as the tree did. At first, Ka'avak looked ready to kill the paragon, for he was what he was, and fate had long since cast its hand in the matter, but something made her hesitate. As she cast the lone figure in her shadow, there was a sense of familiarity that washed over her, as if she'd seen this one before, impossible though it was. As her soul ached for all the pain she endured, Sekk's own echoed back to her - silently crying out for some sign that what he'd done was right.
For a second, she faltered, and a second was all she needed. This one was as lost as she; a memory of what the order had been, and what it had penultimately become. Sekk was no wyvern, but he was, in some small part, one of her own, and that was enough.
From that day, Ka'avak would answer to Sekk's call. He was no true wyvern master, but Ka'avak was no wyvern to be mastered. Sekk would find her a home, keep her safe, and act as a mediator with the dragons like himself as to ensure she wouldn't be hunted in fear or for sport. She could come and go as she pleased, so long as she ensured her return. In kind, Ka'avak offered him her constant protection - if anyone tried to harm him or those he stood by, she would see to it that they burn. In mockery of their pasts, the two had come full circle, and the bond they had was as instinctual and symbiotic as it had been all those years ago when wyverns had first allied with the old order of Shal’anir - as it should always have been.
Those who had died would never come back. Perhaps a dozen, or less, had survived, but they'd fled to all corners of Sornieth after the massacre. Although Ka'avak had been granted her one wish, to see the old order crumble to its knees under the power of those they'd believed they could once control, she had made a terrible mistake. No doubt, in time, the last remaining wyverns would all fall. She, too, would eventually see her last breath drawn, and, as all wyverns were, be doomed to be lost forevermore.
For years, Ka'avak slept deep beneath Shal'anir - hidden by a wall of the behemoth's own blood to keep her weapon safe. It wasn't until Sekk, the Deathsayer, came to Shal'anir that the wyvern awoke as the tree did. At first, Ka'avak looked ready to kill the paragon, for he was what he was, and fate had long since cast its hand in the matter, but something made her hesitate. As she cast the lone figure in her shadow, there was a sense of familiarity that washed over her, as if she'd seen this one before, impossible though it was. As her soul ached for all the pain she endured, Sekk's own echoed back to her - silently crying out for some sign that what he'd done was right.
For a second, she faltered, and a second was all she needed. This one was as lost as she; a memory of what the order had been, and what it had penultimately become. Sekk was no wyvern, but he was, in some small part, one of her own, and that was enough.
From that day, Ka'avak would answer to Sekk's call. He was no true wyvern master, but Ka'avak was no wyvern to be mastered. Sekk would find her a home, keep her safe, and act as a mediator with the dragons like himself as to ensure she wouldn't be hunted in fear or for sport. She could come and go as she pleased, so long as she ensured her return. In kind, Ka'avak offered him her constant protection - if anyone tried to harm him or those he stood by, she would see to it that they burn. In mockery of their pasts, the two had come full circle, and the bond they had was as instinctual and symbiotic as it had been all those years ago when wyverns had first allied with the old order of Shal’anir - as it should always have been.
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 APPEARANCE Ka'avak is a huge dragon unlike any known breed on Sornieth. She's larger than any imperial or ridgeback, with pure black scales, wings the same colour that fade to white, and burning blue eyes that indicate a level of sentience on par with any other dragon. She lacks forelegs at all, instead often crawling forward using her wings for support, but is surprisingly quick on her feet and agile in the air. |
PRESENCE Ka'avak is rarely seen by the denizens of Shal'anir and often only makes an appearance when called by Sekk, the Deathsayer, or when she senses that Shal'anir is in danger. When she can be seen, she's rather aggressive - albeit very impressive to behold. Dragons often comment that, despite the fact she cannot talk, Ka'avak is eerily aware of all that goes on around her; oddly in-tune with the shaded behemoth she calls home. |
WEAPONRY Ka'avak cannot cast intricate spells or wield weaponry, but she doesn't need to. Naturally equipped with heavy-set scales that protect her from most blows and fire that burns the same colour as her eyes, she's more than capable of defending herself. Her tail is a particularly potent weapon, both acting as a whip to stun her enemies and a means to crush them below her weight. Tears out the base of her prey's neck as her signature thing. |
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Upon Ebon and Ash «
All around, the sounds of battle fill the air. Bodies clash, weapons meet, roars of challenge are sounded, and catastrophic spells fill the skies with their power. Those against Shal'anir are met not only with the force of her queen, now, but also the champions she has taken under her grace. Paragons stand beside warriors as equals; enemies are truly closer than friends and now fight alongside one another in her name. Their matriarch, the one who embodies all they stand for, is at the very forefront of their efforts. The battlefield is cloaked in perpetual darkness at her command, shifting and waning so that her children know only the comfort of her embrace and those against them know only fear.
At her side stands another - the Deathsayer. His countenance is hidden by the skull he's adorned himself with, but it does little to shield his sheer concentration. Shal'anir's forces are focused around him. Their movements aren't offensive at all, but meant to protect. Not a single blow, either by claw, weapon, or spell, is to hit the ebon Skydancer, lest his concentration is lost and whatever influence he's weaving over the battlefield will be gone.
The cruel Skydancer then raises gnarled claws up to the sky, his face upturned, and eyes cast towards the heavens in a plea lost upon the winds. His wings flare wide, magic dissipates from his form, and a single word is uttered, drowned out by the sounds of the battle around them.
Yet, it's heard by the only one it matters to. Above the forces of Shal'anir, the skies become obsidian blanketed by ice, blotting out the sun their enemies so desperately sought to have pierce the veil of shadows before them. In fire and ice, She appears.
An amalgamation of dragonkind so ancient her kin have long been lost to the ages; Ka'avak comes from the shadows behind those of Shal'anir, and lets loose a horrific shriek of challenge that instills terror in the hearts of even the most steel-hearted of warriors. She easily dwarfs the largest of Ridgebacks and Imperials around her, but looks nothing like either. She possesses no forelimbs, only hindlegs ended with wicked talons of ice several feet long, with wings so large they become the skies around them. Her scales are thick, rough, and imperfect, but more resilient than any armour made by dragonkind, and her eyes are pure iridescent blue. Ka'avak is a primal force once forgotten, now awoken to protect the children, Her children, of Shal'anir.
Their enemies are given no time to consider her arrival, truly, nor are they given any warning. As she appears, the Deathsayer turns his gaze to them once more, a horrific mockery of a smile cracking his otherwise expressionless features. He spreads his wings wide again, and motions to their enemies. Above him, Ka'avak shrieks once more, turning her attention to those who would harm her children. Sekk, still smiling, points towards the opposing side and, within seconds, the entirety of the battlefield is lost to flames.
All around, the sounds of battle fill the air. Bodies clash, weapons meet, roars of challenge are sounded, and catastrophic spells fill the skies with their power. Those against Shal'anir are met not only with the force of her queen, now, but also the champions she has taken under her grace. Paragons stand beside warriors as equals; enemies are truly closer than friends and now fight alongside one another in her name. Their matriarch, the one who embodies all they stand for, is at the very forefront of their efforts. The battlefield is cloaked in perpetual darkness at her command, shifting and waning so that her children know only the comfort of her embrace and those against them know only fear.
At her side stands another - the Deathsayer. His countenance is hidden by the skull he's adorned himself with, but it does little to shield his sheer concentration. Shal'anir's forces are focused around him. Their movements aren't offensive at all, but meant to protect. Not a single blow, either by claw, weapon, or spell, is to hit the ebon Skydancer, lest his concentration is lost and whatever influence he's weaving over the battlefield will be gone.
The cruel Skydancer then raises gnarled claws up to the sky, his face upturned, and eyes cast towards the heavens in a plea lost upon the winds. His wings flare wide, magic dissipates from his form, and a single word is uttered, drowned out by the sounds of the battle around them.
Yet, it's heard by the only one it matters to. Above the forces of Shal'anir, the skies become obsidian blanketed by ice, blotting out the sun their enemies so desperately sought to have pierce the veil of shadows before them. In fire and ice, She appears.
An amalgamation of dragonkind so ancient her kin have long been lost to the ages; Ka'avak comes from the shadows behind those of Shal'anir, and lets loose a horrific shriek of challenge that instills terror in the hearts of even the most steel-hearted of warriors. She easily dwarfs the largest of Ridgebacks and Imperials around her, but looks nothing like either. She possesses no forelimbs, only hindlegs ended with wicked talons of ice several feet long, with wings so large they become the skies around them. Her scales are thick, rough, and imperfect, but more resilient than any armour made by dragonkind, and her eyes are pure iridescent blue. Ka'avak is a primal force once forgotten, now awoken to protect the children, Her children, of Shal'anir.
Their enemies are given no time to consider her arrival, truly, nor are they given any warning. As she appears, the Deathsayer turns his gaze to them once more, a horrific mockery of a smile cracking his otherwise expressionless features. He spreads his wings wide again, and motions to their enemies. Above him, Ka'avak shrieks once more, turning her attention to those who would harm her children. Sekk, still smiling, points towards the opposing side and, within seconds, the entirety of the battlefield is lost to flames.
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» The Awakening
Deep beneath Shal’anir, a lone figure stood surrounded by darkness. Alone, as he had been for years, Sekk, the Deathsayer, was a dragon long-since forgotten by the world. After his removal from Shal’anir’s council, Sekk had travelled through the Tangled Wood untouched by even the shadows themselves - as if even they wished to avoid him. His magic of choice, the magic he could now feel reverberating deep beneath the shaded behemoth’s roots, tainted and destroyed all that it touched. As the foul energy grew in strength, the Deathsayer could feel the great tree beginning to awaken. Her roots ached as they once again began to draw life up through Sornieth, and the gargantuan branches above groaned in protest as they began to move and stretch out what had been years of hibernation. Her very halls moved like Sekk’s own cold, but still beating, heart, breathing in long drawn-out breaths to stabilise herself. Life was beginning to once again flow through her veins and, as it did, another within her grasp began to awaken.
It appeared as a great sheet of ice, but silver and softly illuminated from the inside by a bioluminescent blue colour that glinted and reflected off the faceted surface. With great roots on either side as a frame, Sekk could have glanced at it for a moment and believed nothing of it; a wall of Shal’anir’s own blood that was just that. Yet, Sekk didn’t glance at it for just a moment. As he stared up at the wall, the Deathsayer could feel a sense of unease wash over him - an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. In the ichor he could see shadows as well as light - faint, but undeniable - and as he could see that shadow, he was certain that shadow could see him.
Sekk raised up onto his back legs, propping himself up on his gnarled staff and reaching out with a paw to lightly trail a single wicked talon across the surface of the wall he stood before. It wasn’t cold to the touch at all - instead, it had a strange warmth to it that came from just behind what he could see. Glancing up, Sekk could see the shadow much clearer now. It had fangs easily the length of his front leg, a long snout that was drawn back in a fierce snarl even now, and wings so huge that it seemed they could have swallowed the skies whole and still not been fully outstretched. The warmth came not from Shal’anir, but from whatever was behind this wall. Shal’anir, however, had only just begun to stir, and Sekk was certain that the great tree didn’t have enough energy to spare to sustain both herself and the charge she protected. The twisted shadows perhaps wouldn’t die, but they would remain dormant for many years to come. They didn’t have many years to come.
With a warbled hiss of disdain, Sekk sharply withdrew his talon and stepped back a few paces. Holding his staff now centre to his body, the Deathsayer closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Beneath his breath he spoke what sounded like nonsensical warbles, trills, and hisses, but what was really the language of the tree he stood within. In time with Shal’anir’s ebb and flow he called to her, keeping his focus on the great wall in front of him to direct his efforts. He prayed to her, asking her to heed his cries and bring life to that which laid dormant.
In time with Sekk, the shaded behemoth began to answer. The energy she expanded outwards now came back in, funnelling towards the bough her ancient follower stood within, and Sekk could feel the shadow responding. Hairline fractures began to appear in the silver ichor; small and unnoticeable at first, but quickly gaining in number and size. Like a spider’s web, the cracks laced across the surface and began to weaken it. Small pieces began to rain down, light and melodical as they hit the stone and shattered like crystalline rain. With each beat of Sekk’s staff upon the cold ground, more of the ichor began to crumble and fall, and Shal’anir’s attentiveness to her stalwart paragon increased. More energy flowed into the chamber, supplying the shadow with much-needed life, and, as the tree stirred and groaned in her efforts, Sekk could hear a long, drawn-out hiss from behind the ichor. It was faint, weak, and fleeting, but he was certain he could hear it. The shadow was breathing. It was working.
The Deathsayer could not have said how long he remained where he was - praying to Shal’anir, for Shal’anir, and to and for the life that was beginning to now stir beneath her boughs. All he knew was that the wall was breaking down, that his prayers were being answered, and that each heartbeat of his own was echoed by two others now.
Yet, as he continued, Sekk could feel a weakness ebbing in Shal’anir’s answers. While the shadow grew in strength, Shal’anir was beginning to tire - as was he. Neither of them could continue as they were, for Shal’anir needed much of her energy for herself, and he lacked the sheer magic ability to break apart the wall completely. Thanking Shal’anir for all that she had given, Sekk’s prayers grew silent once again, and the old dragon sagged on his staff, with that being the only thing now holding him up. Shal’anir was tired, and he knew that all she’d given him would cost her dearly, but he, too, was exhausted. Channelling such a huge amount of energy worked away at his body, and now he barely had the strength to continue standing. Now, all Sekk could do was hope that all he’d done had been enough for the life within.
The chamber was silent. Sekk’s heartbeat echoed in his ears and, for a moment, his hope faltered.
The final surge of energy needed then came not from him, not from Shal’anir, but from the shadow itself. A low growl rippled through the ichor, up, and then through all of Shal’anir, as the shadow made one last effort to free itself - the sudden tremendous expelling of energy shattering the wall to pieces and obliterating it. Shards of ichor were flung in every direction, and it was all Sekk could do to raise a wing to protect himself from the worst of it as the energy, the sheer heat, buffeted him and threatened to throw him from the bough - if not kill him.
Suddenly, Sekk was aware of being blanketed by darkness. The wave of energy hadn’t quite yet subsided, but it wasn’t enough to threaten to topple him anymore, and instead seemed to just be emanating towards him. The shards of ichor had stopped falling now, and, as Sekk dared to finally lower his wing and see what his efforts had wrought, his very heart seemed to stop.
There she was; Ka’avak.
She stood before him an empress before her loyal acolyte; a vision of deadly grace and terrifying beauty with scales of harsh obsidian and eyes that burned a piercing cyan blue with an emotion in them Sekk had no true word for. She was absolutely huge, almost filling the large bough they stood in even when tightly coiled as a cobra preparing to strike, and Sekk could see muscles twitch and ripple along her entire body as she drew herself back, revealing teeth of alabaster in stark contrast to her scales so dark, and letting loose a fierce growl that went straight through him in warning. Within her throat Sekk could see the same blue shade of her eyes as a subtle glow that steadily began to increase in intensity. The Deathsayer was no fool - wyvern fire was merciless and, should she deem him a threat now, there would be no hope left for him.
Yet, when he expected the end, there was none. The harsh blue haze in Ka’avak’s throat died down, as did the low growl that emanated from deep within her chest. Harsh glinting fangs all but disappeared. Narrowed cyan eyes softened, if only for a moment, and the great wyvern lowered her head down to Sekk’s level to regard him in her steely gaze. She dwarfed him, for he was barely a speck in comparison to her sheer size and could have snapped him up in just a second. Something made her hesitate, however, something that was reflected in her eyes and back to him with such clarity that there was no need for the wyvern to have a voice like his own.
“The stories…” Sekk murmured, his eyes uncharacteristically wide beneath his mask of bone as he stood in awe of the wyvern in front of him. “I had hoped, but I never truly believed that they were real after all. Wyverns really were Shal’anir’s greatest weapons...”
Ka’avak stared down at him, lip curling back not in aggression, but apprehension, as she then moved a few inches closer and sniffed at the old dragon. Her hot breath ruffled the rags he adorned himself in as she sniffed again, head slowly moving from one side to the other and gaze fixated on his own, before she let out a low growl of uncertainty and drew back again. She didn’t trust this one, not quite yet, but she felt something in him. It was something she felt in herself - a small part of her that yearned for answers she was only now receiving.
“You’re Ka’avak, aren’t you? The Black Dread.” Sekk didn’t expect an answer, but he didn’t need one. In Ka’avak’s eyes he could see the glint of pride as he addressed her by her title and true name - the one spoken only in Shal’anir’s ancient tongue - and the wyvern breathed out a single burst of air from her nostrils in what could only have been confirmation. She stared down at Sekk with an intensity in her eyes that he knew exactly what she was thinking; what she was feeling. Would others have seen and felt it the same way he did? Sekk doubted it. Wyverns were depicted as intelligent, but there were many fools within Sornieth, and to a fool a wyvern was not much more. He saw, though. He knew.
Just barely holding himself up with his staff now, the Deathsayer then bowed his head low to the great wyvern before him, a garbled clicking sound leaving him before he spoke. The sound caught Ka’avak’s attention, and her focus on him increased tenfold. “I am Sekk, Deathsayer, and the lone survivor of Shal’anir’s many cycles since your hibernation. Much has changed since you last drew breath. Shal’anir is under great threat by a force I cannot hope to ease alone. She needs every line of defence she can get - but I believe you’ve already heard her call, as I have.”
The wyvern let out a sharp snort again, nodding her head once and, if only for a moment, closing her eyes in silent reverence towards her home. Ka’avak was just as aware of the threat beneath the shaded behemoth as he was, if not even more so. Had she remained within hibernation for too much longer, perhaps she, too, would have begun to feel the effects of the festering corruption.
“I understand that our order has forsaken your kind before,” Sekk then began again, the thoughts of what he’d read prior to discovering the resting place of Ka’avak concerning the wyverns and how those of Shal’anir treated them coming to mind and filling him with a sense of disgust, “but I will not allow that to happen again. It has been many cycles since the last wyvern took flight, but those who wronged you are long gone, Ka’avak. Your sacrifice, your children’s sacrifices, were not in vain.”
At that, the great wyvern let out a low trill - mournful at the mention of those she had lost in the final raid on Shal’anir’s inhabitants - and her eyes seemed to search for something within Sekk in silent question.
With some regret, the Deathsayer shook his head, but he was determined nonetheless. “None that I know of. It’s possible that the rest of your kind are simply in hiding, but, if they are, Shal’anir is too weak to call to them. In time, though, as we help her heal, her song will become strong again. More followers will join her ranks, rallying under her banner, and her influence will spread to what it once was. Wyverns may yet rule the skies once more, Great One, and, when they do, I will ensure that what befell your kind before never happens again. Upon my life.” Sekk then placed a wicked talon over his heart, patting it twice.
Ka’avak was silent for a few moments, taking in all Sekk had said and mulling it over. The wyvern was troubled that there were no more of her kind to stand beside her, and the memories of what had happened the last time Sekk’s kind had been given any sort of ‘control’ over herself were still raw in her mind. Yet, she could feel the tree’s pain as if it were her own. At this time, she and this ‘Deathsayer’ were the only ones to defend their home, and there was something in him that they had in common. She had felt it in his prayers when he’d called to Shal’anir; he, too, had been forsaken by those of the tree’s order once before. He wouldn’t allow the past to repeat itself, so long as he drew breath, and neither would she. This would be a duty that they would share and, if Sekk, or any of the other dragons that came to rally under Shal’anir’s banner, took one step in the wrong direction, Ka’avak would correct it herself as she had done all those years ago.
“I trust I have your interest?” Sekk then spoke again, eyes filled with a sense of hopeful pride as he looked up to her with an uncharacteristic wave of optimism for their future. He gripped his staff tight, making the effort to pull himself a little more upright and appear as he felt. “That you’ll answer Shal’anir’s call, as you once did?”
Ka’avak watched Sekk in silence for a few moments longer, before stepping forward, opening her maw wide to reveal rows of ivory fangs that practically shone, and letting loose a bone-chilling roar that seemed to shake Shal’anir to her very core - a mighty cry worthy of answering the one of her home and offering her undying, undivided devotion to the shaded behemoth. Sekk felt his own heart respond to the wyvern’s rally, a wave of immense pride filling him in a way he’d not felt for years. Sekk knew that this was what he had been called to Shal’anir for, and that this was what Ka’avak was meant to do. Together, the two of them would help heal and defend Shal’anir. Too long had she remained within the shadows, hiding away and trying to recover from the damage done to her by those not worthy of her.
Shal’anir finally had a chance, now, in their final stand, and failure was not an option.
Deep beneath Shal’anir, a lone figure stood surrounded by darkness. Alone, as he had been for years, Sekk, the Deathsayer, was a dragon long-since forgotten by the world. After his removal from Shal’anir’s council, Sekk had travelled through the Tangled Wood untouched by even the shadows themselves - as if even they wished to avoid him. His magic of choice, the magic he could now feel reverberating deep beneath the shaded behemoth’s roots, tainted and destroyed all that it touched. As the foul energy grew in strength, the Deathsayer could feel the great tree beginning to awaken. Her roots ached as they once again began to draw life up through Sornieth, and the gargantuan branches above groaned in protest as they began to move and stretch out what had been years of hibernation. Her very halls moved like Sekk’s own cold, but still beating, heart, breathing in long drawn-out breaths to stabilise herself. Life was beginning to once again flow through her veins and, as it did, another within her grasp began to awaken.
It appeared as a great sheet of ice, but silver and softly illuminated from the inside by a bioluminescent blue colour that glinted and reflected off the faceted surface. With great roots on either side as a frame, Sekk could have glanced at it for a moment and believed nothing of it; a wall of Shal’anir’s own blood that was just that. Yet, Sekk didn’t glance at it for just a moment. As he stared up at the wall, the Deathsayer could feel a sense of unease wash over him - an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. In the ichor he could see shadows as well as light - faint, but undeniable - and as he could see that shadow, he was certain that shadow could see him.
Sekk raised up onto his back legs, propping himself up on his gnarled staff and reaching out with a paw to lightly trail a single wicked talon across the surface of the wall he stood before. It wasn’t cold to the touch at all - instead, it had a strange warmth to it that came from just behind what he could see. Glancing up, Sekk could see the shadow much clearer now. It had fangs easily the length of his front leg, a long snout that was drawn back in a fierce snarl even now, and wings so huge that it seemed they could have swallowed the skies whole and still not been fully outstretched. The warmth came not from Shal’anir, but from whatever was behind this wall. Shal’anir, however, had only just begun to stir, and Sekk was certain that the great tree didn’t have enough energy to spare to sustain both herself and the charge she protected. The twisted shadows perhaps wouldn’t die, but they would remain dormant for many years to come. They didn’t have many years to come.
With a warbled hiss of disdain, Sekk sharply withdrew his talon and stepped back a few paces. Holding his staff now centre to his body, the Deathsayer closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Beneath his breath he spoke what sounded like nonsensical warbles, trills, and hisses, but what was really the language of the tree he stood within. In time with Shal’anir’s ebb and flow he called to her, keeping his focus on the great wall in front of him to direct his efforts. He prayed to her, asking her to heed his cries and bring life to that which laid dormant.
In time with Sekk, the shaded behemoth began to answer. The energy she expanded outwards now came back in, funnelling towards the bough her ancient follower stood within, and Sekk could feel the shadow responding. Hairline fractures began to appear in the silver ichor; small and unnoticeable at first, but quickly gaining in number and size. Like a spider’s web, the cracks laced across the surface and began to weaken it. Small pieces began to rain down, light and melodical as they hit the stone and shattered like crystalline rain. With each beat of Sekk’s staff upon the cold ground, more of the ichor began to crumble and fall, and Shal’anir’s attentiveness to her stalwart paragon increased. More energy flowed into the chamber, supplying the shadow with much-needed life, and, as the tree stirred and groaned in her efforts, Sekk could hear a long, drawn-out hiss from behind the ichor. It was faint, weak, and fleeting, but he was certain he could hear it. The shadow was breathing. It was working.
The Deathsayer could not have said how long he remained where he was - praying to Shal’anir, for Shal’anir, and to and for the life that was beginning to now stir beneath her boughs. All he knew was that the wall was breaking down, that his prayers were being answered, and that each heartbeat of his own was echoed by two others now.
Yet, as he continued, Sekk could feel a weakness ebbing in Shal’anir’s answers. While the shadow grew in strength, Shal’anir was beginning to tire - as was he. Neither of them could continue as they were, for Shal’anir needed much of her energy for herself, and he lacked the sheer magic ability to break apart the wall completely. Thanking Shal’anir for all that she had given, Sekk’s prayers grew silent once again, and the old dragon sagged on his staff, with that being the only thing now holding him up. Shal’anir was tired, and he knew that all she’d given him would cost her dearly, but he, too, was exhausted. Channelling such a huge amount of energy worked away at his body, and now he barely had the strength to continue standing. Now, all Sekk could do was hope that all he’d done had been enough for the life within.
The chamber was silent. Sekk’s heartbeat echoed in his ears and, for a moment, his hope faltered.
The final surge of energy needed then came not from him, not from Shal’anir, but from the shadow itself. A low growl rippled through the ichor, up, and then through all of Shal’anir, as the shadow made one last effort to free itself - the sudden tremendous expelling of energy shattering the wall to pieces and obliterating it. Shards of ichor were flung in every direction, and it was all Sekk could do to raise a wing to protect himself from the worst of it as the energy, the sheer heat, buffeted him and threatened to throw him from the bough - if not kill him.
Suddenly, Sekk was aware of being blanketed by darkness. The wave of energy hadn’t quite yet subsided, but it wasn’t enough to threaten to topple him anymore, and instead seemed to just be emanating towards him. The shards of ichor had stopped falling now, and, as Sekk dared to finally lower his wing and see what his efforts had wrought, his very heart seemed to stop.
There she was; Ka’avak.
She stood before him an empress before her loyal acolyte; a vision of deadly grace and terrifying beauty with scales of harsh obsidian and eyes that burned a piercing cyan blue with an emotion in them Sekk had no true word for. She was absolutely huge, almost filling the large bough they stood in even when tightly coiled as a cobra preparing to strike, and Sekk could see muscles twitch and ripple along her entire body as she drew herself back, revealing teeth of alabaster in stark contrast to her scales so dark, and letting loose a fierce growl that went straight through him in warning. Within her throat Sekk could see the same blue shade of her eyes as a subtle glow that steadily began to increase in intensity. The Deathsayer was no fool - wyvern fire was merciless and, should she deem him a threat now, there would be no hope left for him.
Yet, when he expected the end, there was none. The harsh blue haze in Ka’avak’s throat died down, as did the low growl that emanated from deep within her chest. Harsh glinting fangs all but disappeared. Narrowed cyan eyes softened, if only for a moment, and the great wyvern lowered her head down to Sekk’s level to regard him in her steely gaze. She dwarfed him, for he was barely a speck in comparison to her sheer size and could have snapped him up in just a second. Something made her hesitate, however, something that was reflected in her eyes and back to him with such clarity that there was no need for the wyvern to have a voice like his own.
“The stories…” Sekk murmured, his eyes uncharacteristically wide beneath his mask of bone as he stood in awe of the wyvern in front of him. “I had hoped, but I never truly believed that they were real after all. Wyverns really were Shal’anir’s greatest weapons...”
Ka’avak stared down at him, lip curling back not in aggression, but apprehension, as she then moved a few inches closer and sniffed at the old dragon. Her hot breath ruffled the rags he adorned himself in as she sniffed again, head slowly moving from one side to the other and gaze fixated on his own, before she let out a low growl of uncertainty and drew back again. She didn’t trust this one, not quite yet, but she felt something in him. It was something she felt in herself - a small part of her that yearned for answers she was only now receiving.
“You’re Ka’avak, aren’t you? The Black Dread.” Sekk didn’t expect an answer, but he didn’t need one. In Ka’avak’s eyes he could see the glint of pride as he addressed her by her title and true name - the one spoken only in Shal’anir’s ancient tongue - and the wyvern breathed out a single burst of air from her nostrils in what could only have been confirmation. She stared down at Sekk with an intensity in her eyes that he knew exactly what she was thinking; what she was feeling. Would others have seen and felt it the same way he did? Sekk doubted it. Wyverns were depicted as intelligent, but there were many fools within Sornieth, and to a fool a wyvern was not much more. He saw, though. He knew.
Just barely holding himself up with his staff now, the Deathsayer then bowed his head low to the great wyvern before him, a garbled clicking sound leaving him before he spoke. The sound caught Ka’avak’s attention, and her focus on him increased tenfold. “I am Sekk, Deathsayer, and the lone survivor of Shal’anir’s many cycles since your hibernation. Much has changed since you last drew breath. Shal’anir is under great threat by a force I cannot hope to ease alone. She needs every line of defence she can get - but I believe you’ve already heard her call, as I have.”
The wyvern let out a sharp snort again, nodding her head once and, if only for a moment, closing her eyes in silent reverence towards her home. Ka’avak was just as aware of the threat beneath the shaded behemoth as he was, if not even more so. Had she remained within hibernation for too much longer, perhaps she, too, would have begun to feel the effects of the festering corruption.
“I understand that our order has forsaken your kind before,” Sekk then began again, the thoughts of what he’d read prior to discovering the resting place of Ka’avak concerning the wyverns and how those of Shal’anir treated them coming to mind and filling him with a sense of disgust, “but I will not allow that to happen again. It has been many cycles since the last wyvern took flight, but those who wronged you are long gone, Ka’avak. Your sacrifice, your children’s sacrifices, were not in vain.”
At that, the great wyvern let out a low trill - mournful at the mention of those she had lost in the final raid on Shal’anir’s inhabitants - and her eyes seemed to search for something within Sekk in silent question.
With some regret, the Deathsayer shook his head, but he was determined nonetheless. “None that I know of. It’s possible that the rest of your kind are simply in hiding, but, if they are, Shal’anir is too weak to call to them. In time, though, as we help her heal, her song will become strong again. More followers will join her ranks, rallying under her banner, and her influence will spread to what it once was. Wyverns may yet rule the skies once more, Great One, and, when they do, I will ensure that what befell your kind before never happens again. Upon my life.” Sekk then placed a wicked talon over his heart, patting it twice.
Ka’avak was silent for a few moments, taking in all Sekk had said and mulling it over. The wyvern was troubled that there were no more of her kind to stand beside her, and the memories of what had happened the last time Sekk’s kind had been given any sort of ‘control’ over herself were still raw in her mind. Yet, she could feel the tree’s pain as if it were her own. At this time, she and this ‘Deathsayer’ were the only ones to defend their home, and there was something in him that they had in common. She had felt it in his prayers when he’d called to Shal’anir; he, too, had been forsaken by those of the tree’s order once before. He wouldn’t allow the past to repeat itself, so long as he drew breath, and neither would she. This would be a duty that they would share and, if Sekk, or any of the other dragons that came to rally under Shal’anir’s banner, took one step in the wrong direction, Ka’avak would correct it herself as she had done all those years ago.
“I trust I have your interest?” Sekk then spoke again, eyes filled with a sense of hopeful pride as he looked up to her with an uncharacteristic wave of optimism for their future. He gripped his staff tight, making the effort to pull himself a little more upright and appear as he felt. “That you’ll answer Shal’anir’s call, as you once did?”
Ka’avak watched Sekk in silence for a few moments longer, before stepping forward, opening her maw wide to reveal rows of ivory fangs that practically shone, and letting loose a bone-chilling roar that seemed to shake Shal’anir to her very core - a mighty cry worthy of answering the one of her home and offering her undying, undivided devotion to the shaded behemoth. Sekk felt his own heart respond to the wyvern’s rally, a wave of immense pride filling him in a way he’d not felt for years. Sekk knew that this was what he had been called to Shal’anir for, and that this was what Ka’avak was meant to do. Together, the two of them would help heal and defend Shal’anir. Too long had she remained within the shadows, hiding away and trying to recover from the damage done to her by those not worthy of her.
Shal’anir finally had a chance, now, in their final stand, and failure was not an option.
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Gosuto - full size
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» Notes «
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- This in terms of her build
- Incapable of speech and communicates via growls, hums, and shrill whistles
- As intelligent as any dragon; her being unable to speak being a problem reflects more on the dragons that mind it as such than herself
- Not always around Shal'anir, has been spotted flying to and from it several times in search of something
- Strong sense of morality, even if it's more in line with Sekk in ambiguity
- Aggressive, and subservient, but only to a point
- It's unknown how long wyverns can live for, but also understood that Ka'avak is several cycles old (those being the lengths of time each empress rules within the great tree) and was in a deep hibernation for a lot of this time.
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