Ahh I was almost as born for this as if it were a pirate themed dragon week <3
No one is sure what to make of her. There's crow's feet at her eyes and the beginnings of grey working through her impressive mane. Her voice cracks like thunder, or a whip, and her eyes are harder still - until she laughs. She laughs often, especially after intimidating some younger dragon into darting from her path, head dipped in subservience.
Her airship turned heads - a small sloop o' war, converted; her masts chopped roughly off at half their heights, great cables woven from gods-only-know what lashed beneath the ship's keel to hold a great brown-and-olive balloon. The other captains eye the monstrosity with thinly-veiled suspicion and more than a little distaste. They had nothing against airships; their friends at the Bastion had proven time and time again that zephyrs and their like could make fine vessels. But this was not that.
This was the corpse of some poor, abused tall ship, pulled from her watery grave and paraded about by magic that none of them approved of. Worse yet, the grisly thing was moored, floating above the great ships of the clan. Khaegris detests it; should the Willing Mind fall and damage the Defiant, Avarice or Ranger, she'd skin Tempest herself.
Tempest is not bothered by the pirate captains, their bravado, or their hostility. She was here now, and she meant to stay.
She and her airship, Willing Mind, have sailed together through many weird and haunted shores. When they were young together, in the waters surrounding the Starfall Isles, it seems they ran afoul of some strange and ancient forces. The captain will not speak of it, though sooner or later, crews always hear her speaking to her ship as though it could speak back.
There's a confidence that comes with age. With knowing that what will be will be, and there is little one can do to alter the course set by time. She'd been angrier, in her youth. More worried by what people thought, concerned by appearances. Not so now; she laughs most insults off. Those that do not earn her mirth she deals with swiftly, definitively.
From the deck of an air ship, after all, it is a very long way to the ground.
No one is sure what to make of her. There's crow's feet at her eyes and the beginnings of grey working through her impressive mane. Her voice cracks like thunder, or a whip, and her eyes are harder still - until she laughs. She laughs often, especially after intimidating some younger dragon into darting from her path, head dipped in subservience.
Her airship turned heads - a small sloop o' war, converted; her masts chopped roughly off at half their heights, great cables woven from gods-only-know what lashed beneath the ship's keel to hold a great brown-and-olive balloon. The other captains eye the monstrosity with thinly-veiled suspicion and more than a little distaste. They had nothing against airships; their friends at the Bastion had proven time and time again that zephyrs and their like could make fine vessels. But this was not that.
This was the corpse of some poor, abused tall ship, pulled from her watery grave and paraded about by magic that none of them approved of. Worse yet, the grisly thing was moored, floating above the great ships of the clan. Khaegris detests it; should the Willing Mind fall and damage the Defiant, Avarice or Ranger, she'd skin Tempest herself.
Tempest is not bothered by the pirate captains, their bravado, or their hostility. She was here now, and she meant to stay.
She and her airship, Willing Mind, have sailed together through many weird and haunted shores. When they were young together, in the waters surrounding the Starfall Isles, it seems they ran afoul of some strange and ancient forces. The captain will not speak of it, though sooner or later, crews always hear her speaking to her ship as though it could speak back.
There's a confidence that comes with age. With knowing that what will be will be, and there is little one can do to alter the course set by time. She'd been angrier, in her youth. More worried by what people thought, concerned by appearances. Not so now; she laughs most insults off. Those that do not earn her mirth she deals with swiftly, definitively.
From the deck of an air ship, after all, it is a very long way to the ground.
