It was known to him, based on Shamhat alone and in spite of her husk of a true form, that the rate at which a normal human walked could, with reasonable stamina and rest, cover anywhere from thirty to fifty kilometres in one day. In hindsight, he realised that this value too was ingrained before the words ever knew him - one thousand metres, each metre a set length, a value he had an instinctual grasp of even after recognising the precise distance it represented. It seemed that a lot of information was known to him subconsciously at this stage, though how much would likely remain unknown until it was important to know, and he could trust that it would guide him nonetheless. Likewise, he was not even close to his full adulthood - human lifespan included a period of roughly twenty “years” of immaturity. Not the cycles of this land, though. They measured time elsewhere. He had no clue where that was, and suspected that even trying to determine them required more information than he possessed, but by this system his age measured roughly three “years”.

Another part wholly understood that, even in his current state, he could, if he so chose, travel much further, much faster, and barely break a sweat. He was also conscious of his own stalling. Much slower than normal human pace. He did not, in fact, [i]want[/i] to reach Qal’Asurah yet - not a fear of the place, but a recognition that if it were anything like Euphro-Uruk, if his encounter with Shamhat had any correlation to humans there, that he would need to steel himself further or risk being lost again. And equally, an unwillingness to abandon his pack, hive, flock… companions. That was the word she’d used. No matter his intellect compared to theirs, they were companions to him.

But.

But he could not stall forever.

After nineteen days, he sensed something distant. Vast in scope.

Impossibly vast.

…not at all impossible. Quite particularly not so. Efficiently put together, in fact, if the metric for efficiency was a combination of lifestyle and population density.

He’d found the humans. Potentially, he’d found Qal’Asurah.

[color=f26522]‘You have to stop here.’[/color] The instruction to his drakes and dragons was quiet, but resonated deeply in them, even as the resonance returned with combinations of… nameless queries, worry of abandonment, and for the more self-aware sadness that he was leaving. He returned it again, ensuring they knew his feelings, his intent to leave only briefly before he came back to them, and his confidence that they knew how to keep themselves fed and gather new members for his return. This time, the response was positive. They knew he would.

And he did. No longer restrained, he ran, his body moving as the dragon-leopards did, lithely passing around forest and over canopies as if they were solid land with no obstacles whatsoever. Two kilometres- four kilometres- he sped up, now- seven, then ten kilometres- he imagined that only the fastest of the dragons would be able to keep up by air even if they were following on- fifteen- twenty- twenty five-

Suddenly, he paused at the edge of a clearing.

There rose something that, if he hadn’t already recognised its scale, might have been incomprehensible at a glance. A structure, or perhaps a great mass of structures, climbing into the sky like a steel spear trying to puncture the clouds of steam and smoke emerging from it. About the spire, walls, insanely tall in themselves, dwarfing many of the trees that surrounded the land in fact, topped with a range of structures featuring- dragonbreath? No, but similar in the sense of providing range to slay from, each scanning for any sign of life, eager to kill.

Eager? Yes, all too eager. These turrets contained more examples of the bizarre energy-dragon he’d encountered before. Not the same, though. Where that one had been overtly erogenous, seeking pain and pleasure equally, these… these only sought bloodshed. Battle and death.

A direct assault would be like charging a drake-rhinoceros- he could do it, but it’d be unnecessarily dangerous. And stealth in the manner of dragon-cats, near-impossible. But… but but but… if he were to take inspiration from the drake-termites? The drake-moles? Both humble compared to their more intelligent counterparts. Both with more unique qualities, qualities that let them pass through the very earth, channelling passages- this city’s lowest depths sunk into the earth, beneath the level the turrets would see, guarded only by the dense walls themselves.

Not nearly dense enough to stop him.

Taking several paces back, to guarantee a broken line of sight, he found a suitable spot, flexing his fingers until they popped, then began to claw at the dirt, discarding it around the hole as it developed. Deeper, deeper… deeper still, yes. With each pass, he grew more adept, finding his rhythm, finding it easier to burrow faster, and soon enough finding that the dirt he threw out simply landed back upon himself… time to move inward.

Hm. His claws had grown longer. Useful, for this case. Perhaps similar to the inner flame he’d manifested? He’d look into that later.

For now, passage through the ground toward the city was simple enough. He was hardly hindered; the ground was no tougher, though more rocky the closer he got… more, more… there. The walls. Far, far, harder to claw through, enough to deter most underground assaults - but then, he had oxygenated himself plenty before this. Time was no issue, and nor was the barricade itself, for where the claws of dragons would get no purchase, his own had the strength to pierce and cut free the material before him. It was interesting how it differed from what lay about him, though, what he’d seen in the past… as if it were layered into itself, almost.

And then, he broke through. Taking his first deep breath in several minutes, he noted the taste of the air: not enough oxygen, too much of everything else, shortening the lifespans of any who were not adapted to handle it by decades for their troubles. And even expanding the hole… perhaps this was an unfortunate spot, but he seemed to be a few dozen metres away from the nearest solid ground. Though, a relatively quick climb downward made no difference, landing him on more of that layered rock in a narrow, near-lightless hallway.

And there was life here. Somehow, a human stalked the halls- or a thing that may once have been human, or may once have been dragon, or both. It sensed him, turned, attacked with a cry of hate-

And landed in several pieces on the ground, its gore splattering him. He’d not expected a great fight, but compared to the dragons he’d hunted, it was as if it totally lacked protection. Just like Shamhat: fragile as a leaf. Or, rather, it had had a shell on its back at least, like a dragon-turtle. That hadn’t helped it when it was upright, though.

He needed more information. And, honestly, he needed sustenance too.

A few mouthfuls gave him insight. The flesh tasted wrong, rotten almost, much as the Seer’s had, and the insights in question were of the same unfocused quality as most dragons, if not worse - but they told him that more such things wandered down here, devouring whatever they could find and subsisting on toxic fluids that burned even their mouths to consume. And humans from above came, killed them, took them away… no wonder its first thought was to attack. Its life had been a piteous one, and its death had come from something it couldn’t comprehend as different from whatever else antagonised it.

It gave him some idea of where to go to examine Qal’Asurah further, though. This, clearly, was the standard of its depths, albeit this particular corridor presented an unusually-remote space; presumably, those further up would be less burdened by such awful conditions that they had to devolve to survive. And to move up, he could either climb again, fighting to ground level once again - or, more reliably, find humans to “capture” him, and hope that they represented the least ethical of the city’s populace. Between the two options, the latter seemed like it’d be faster.

Even that might take time. But then, time was no issue.