Xen
Sometime in the past hundred years, a tale was spread across Y’vera. The tale told of a massive winged beast covered in scales, immortal to the passage of time. It soared through the skies, far above the world, and breathed fire down on its inhabitants. In combat, it was unbeatable. Its scales were harder but lighter than any known metal. If it caught you in its gaze, your death was certain. No one quite knows its origin, but its beastly nature has lead some to attribute its existence to Coyote’s curse. The draconic beast, however, has not been seen since the Cynthia Wars. Its role, if it existed at all, was chaotic. It fought for itself, rather than for Cynthia, for Coyote, or for Storxx and Rolark.
Xen was intimately familiar with this tale. He had witnessed first hand the destruction the dragon had brought on Delteria; it nearly levelled Cynthia’s Crystal Throne, as well as a large portion of Barion Square where the Veracity Guild Hall would later be located. Xen knew better than to attribute the dragon’s actions to chaos. He identified with its allegiance only to itself, knowing it wouldn’t have gotten involved without a good reason. Over time, he tracked the dragon’s actions and those surrounding Veracity. He learned a great deal of the Drakken family in the process.
Xen knew the tells of a vampire: slightly red eyes, slightly pale skin, a slight lingering of the eyes on dark red wine. What confirmed Xen’s suspicions, however, was the look in Bob Drakken’s eyes when Xen walked into the room. He had accidentally left his flask undone, and Drakken’s heightened sense of smell must have caught the distinct smell of Naga blood. His eyes darted up from his wine, flared as he sniffed silently, then all too quickly returned to his regal look of confidence the Drakken family always wore. Xen was determined to break it.
With fresh blood coursing through his system, Xen brought his aura to an intensity and range he hadn’t done in years. It felt good. To him, it was fear, adrenaline, and a toxic high. To others, a terror they had never imagined.
Bob Drakken couldn’t handle it any longer, and Stravier knew it. “Drakken, don’t!” was a meaningless warning; his wings had already broken through his garb. Drakken’s draconic form broke free and crushed the grand table in front of them as he let out a roar that paralleled the intensity of the demonic screams everyone else had heard in their heads. Not a moment later, Xen ran. He had never seen a dragon this close, but knew of the anti-magic properties its scales provided. His aura was useless against that beast, not to mention the fear he was feeling only intensified at the sight of a winged monster 30 times his size.
Most of the attendees, for some reason, were slashing at each other's throats as Xen fled to the doorway. A couple others joined Xen’s side, wearing some strange looking crystalline contraption across their chests. Xen dawned his own and continued running for the locked entrance as the dragon’s fire filled the room behind him. Drakken gave chase, ripping through walls and bodies alike to stop Xen. The contraption Xen had placed on the doorway was whirring loudly as they ran full speed into it and disappeared into thin air.
They reappeared on the other end of the doorway with their crystalline gear disintegrated. “Let’s go!” Several more of the Cerberus’s crew appeared from the rooftops and joined the group running for the pier. From the outside, the building looked completely undisturbed. The building would be unusable after the fire destroyed any integrity it had left, but at least the magical barrier would contain the destruction. It would also slow down Stravier and Drakken long enough for them to make a clean escape, not that they wouldn’t have their hands full eliminating any witnesses; the Drakken family secret could threaten Veracity’s position if it were known.
Xen’s job was done. In a few days, several of his underworld contacts would take over, most of the public none the wiser. Aboard the Cerberus, he wasted no time ordering the small crew of eight to cast off downriver: three different ashen breeds on deck tying and untying sails, two naga at the wheel working together to navigate the river, a pixie in the nest, and two humans busy below-deck (one of which Ivory had a close encounter with earlier). Meanwhile, the crew’s ogre chef had come across Ivory while making his rounds with the evening’s dinner...