The meat was chewy, but flavorful, with spices and sugars glazed into the strip. The different essences practically exploding on her tongue as she snapped it down, leaving a pleasant, muted aftertaste as she left her lair. Inside, her sharp hearing picked up the sounds of the prince finishing the rest of the little snack he had drawn, and then the click clack of his boots as he made his way back towards the entrance. The scraping sound of metal on stone rang out, bouncing off the walls of the cave as he scooped the royal scepter off of the uneven stone floor.
As she stepped out into the snows, she saw a handful of men and women standing before her, decked out in thick furs and leathers to insulate them against the bite of the mountainous chill, hands resting on the hilts of their swords, axes, and hammers or on the grips of their bows. None dared draw on the dragon, small though she may be, but it was apparent they were concerned that they saw their prince enter the lair, and the dragon leave it. They backed away slowly, giving the hatchling a wide berth, and by the time she had caught her meal, all that was left in sight was the footprints in the freshly fallen snow marking their hasty retreat.
Kendrick stepped out a few moments after her last bite, tugging at the lapel of his thick coat to shield his neck from the cold. With a shiver, he donned a cap that appeared to be woven wool from some poor beast that was unlucky enough to have fur colored to match the rest of his royal winter garb. "Just because you can do something on your own, doesn't mean you have to, and there is some comfort in that knowledge, no?" The frigid air around them made his breath visible as he spoke, but he didn't bother looking at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the now empty clearing. He saw the footprints in the snow, signs of his little expedition's departure, and though he was certain they wouldn't abandon him, or even wander too far away, he was somewhat irked by having to inconvenience himself in the slightest to get back to his mount.
He passed the hatching on his way to the small caravan, turning to look at her expectantly before breaking line of sight, "There is still a deal to be made," he said definitively, silently inviting her along... For now.
Vodius
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Kendrick's expression softened slightly as he pressed his back to the cavern wall, letting himself slide to the floor, drawing his pack from his back as he descended. "I'm not going to lie and say I know what you're going through. My parents aren't dead, but they've never had any time for me," he started, pulling a handful of dried, salted meat from his bag. He took a small bite, chewing it thoughtfully as the memories of his lonely childhood washed over him. The prince extended one hand out, holding a strip of meat from his little meal as somewhat of a peace offering and apology for intruding on the hatchling. "Hungry?"
Prince Kendrick slid off his palfrey, landing with a crunch on the foliage beneath his feet, much to the chagrin of the master tracker accompanying him. He shrugged, knowing that there were still miles from their quarry, and a horse would make too much noise to approach without scaring off any beast in these woods. A single attendant, a young lad with blond hair in a bowl cut that had to reach up to assist the prince, adjusted the straps of the royal's quiver as the tracker tugged at the straps of her own equipment. Bow in hand, the prince and the tracker left the servant to mind the horses and ensure they don't run off.
The two padded off softly into the underbrush of the forest, moving at a slow pace to maintain their stealth, drawn out even slower by the prince's silent insistence to avoid anything that appeared too muddy or too dirty. Trousers fashioned from the hide of some beast he couldn't pronounce (a gift to his father from a visiting dignitary) and a hunting tunic of the same material, clung to his chiseled form and he absolutely refused to return from his hunt soiled by the environment. His bow was wrought from an ancient hardwood tree from a foreign land, dark and strong, with elaborate etchings of legendary hunters taking aim at their prey. Even his arrows dripped of a luxury unknown to the rest of the realm, with razor sharp, steel heads, soft wood shafts sanded to perfect smoothness, and fletching in the bright colors of exotic birds' feathers.
After some time, he brought the memory of the tracker's map to mind, guessing they would have to be at least half a dozen miles out from where they dismounted, far from the palace, or even the outskirts of the city. They were truly in the wilderness, presumably alone...
The two padded off softly into the underbrush of the forest, moving at a slow pace to maintain their stealth, drawn out even slower by the prince's silent insistence to avoid anything that appeared too muddy or too dirty. Trousers fashioned from the hide of some beast he couldn't pronounce (a gift to his father from a visiting dignitary) and a hunting tunic of the same material, clung to his chiseled form and he absolutely refused to return from his hunt soiled by the environment. His bow was wrought from an ancient hardwood tree from a foreign land, dark and strong, with elaborate etchings of legendary hunters taking aim at their prey. Even his arrows dripped of a luxury unknown to the rest of the realm, with razor sharp, steel heads, soft wood shafts sanded to perfect smoothness, and fletching in the bright colors of exotic birds' feathers.
After some time, he brought the memory of the tracker's map to mind, guessing they would have to be at least half a dozen miles out from where they dismounted, far from the palace, or even the outskirts of the city. They were truly in the wilderness, presumably alone...
The corners of the prince's lips turned downward in light of the news, the Inferno was dead? How could this have happened? And how could the beast he sought after have been killed anyway? And why didn't he discover such news in his research? Surely someone would have taken note of a great red's passing. Disregarding the flames, he pressed onward, leaving the protective scepter on the ground where it lay as he stepped into the chamber beyond. The dulcet tones of the hatchling's singing surrounded him before he approached her more closely, the tone and pacing making the human wonder what its purpose was. Was she just singing to sing? Was she doing it out of joy, or sorrow?
Kendrick pressed his back against the wall of the chamber, intentionally alerting the lair's apparent master that she wasn't alone. Arms crossed over his chest, he did little to hide his displeasure at the situation, though he guessed that the baby dragon wouldn't be able to tell if he was upset over losing his prize, or empathetic to her losing her mother. "What's it like here? Alone, I mean. Do you like it?" he asked gently, keeping any sign of harshness from his voice.
Kendrick pressed his back against the wall of the chamber, intentionally alerting the lair's apparent master that she wasn't alone. Arms crossed over his chest, he did little to hide his displeasure at the situation, though he guessed that the baby dragon wouldn't be able to tell if he was upset over losing his prize, or empathetic to her losing her mother. "What's it like here? Alone, I mean. Do you like it?" he asked gently, keeping any sign of harshness from his voice.
Sebastian raised one hand to the back of his head, scratching his scalp nervously, "I suppose I should get used to tempers, eh? Wouldn't do to have too many peaceful pirates bobbing about, now would it?" He sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his longcoat, "I know... I don't really have any swashbuckling accolades dotting my resumé, but I'm a good shot at least. I can hang out in your machine shop until you think I'm ready for a raid." He approached closer, though not intruding on her personal space, "Where are we headed to next, anyway?"
Sebastian grinned nervously, tugging at the lapel of his coat and slipping the disruptor back into his bag, "Ah... Well... She'll be hungry," he started, nodding quickly to himself to try and jog the specifics back into his forethoughts, "Likely thirsty too. I've modified this simple ray gun to be a metabolizer. It speeds up the healing process... But you can't create something from nothing, right?" He cleared his throat and shook his head, stopping himself from going into a thesis about the radiation manipulating the cells of the body to make this contraption work, "She just needs a good meal. Mostly meat." Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder, counting the steps between him and the door in case he needed to make a break for it, almost edging his way closer to the exit...
The prince dropped the scepter as soon as the metal of the relic turned more than lukewarm, letting it fall with a ka-lunk as it hit the ground. The glow faded to nothingness as it left his grip, leaving the chamber lit only by the searing inferno surrounding the dragon pup, giving it an ominous bearing despite its size.
Kendrick shook his hand briskly, as though he could wave the heat away, but kept his eyes on the creature of fire before him, trying to keep his face from displaying his confusion. Head slightly cocked to the side, he examined the magical beast, a slight frown evident on his lips. "Your home?" he questioned, as though he wasn't speaking to something that could roast him where he stood. "Hm..." The man turned away from the flames, his silhouette on the opposite wall growing dark and tall as he pieced together the clues. There was supposed to be an adult dragon here.
Turning back towards the lair's owner, he let his eyes meet with hers, a sign of respect in his lands, though he wasn't sure if staring back at her with an unyielding, unwavering gaze would be recognized as such by a hatchling dragon. "This is your home," he started with a nod, "My sincerest apologies." He offered a slight bow, another sign of respect he didn't know if she'd understand, "But you are not the great red that I seek. Do you know of Kor'Inzaia? Of the Inferno? I seek audience with her. I seek to make a deal."
Kendrick shook his hand briskly, as though he could wave the heat away, but kept his eyes on the creature of fire before him, trying to keep his face from displaying his confusion. Head slightly cocked to the side, he examined the magical beast, a slight frown evident on his lips. "Your home?" he questioned, as though he wasn't speaking to something that could roast him where he stood. "Hm..." The man turned away from the flames, his silhouette on the opposite wall growing dark and tall as he pieced together the clues. There was supposed to be an adult dragon here.
Turning back towards the lair's owner, he let his eyes meet with hers, a sign of respect in his lands, though he wasn't sure if staring back at her with an unyielding, unwavering gaze would be recognized as such by a hatchling dragon. "This is your home," he started with a nod, "My sincerest apologies." He offered a slight bow, another sign of respect he didn't know if she'd understand, "But you are not the great red that I seek. Do you know of Kor'Inzaia? Of the Inferno? I seek audience with her. I seek to make a deal."
Sebastian nodded determinedly, squeezing the trigger of the disruptor pistol evenly and firing off a ray of the same lavender shade that filled the vacuum tubes of the thing. It washed over the captain's shoulder as the young man took in a sharp breath and swallowed nervously. He knew that it was designed to stitch and sew flesh back together, to knead and mend muscle and even bone as the irradiated particles kicked the target's regenerative processes into overdrive... At the cost of their metabolism. He lowered the pistol slowly, hoping that the captain had had a big meal, and recently...
Prince Kendrick Burson groaned in a groggy stupor, subconsciously bringing on hand to scratch his stomach as the other stretched luxuriously out, fingertips extended enough to just barely brush against the smooth, solid darkwood bedpost as he begrudged the sun for rising so early in the day. His attendants all waited patiently at the borders of the room, hands at their sides and eyes down at the floor, or rather, the thick fur rugs that lay scattered over the floor to insulate the prince from any morning chill that might try to wander in. The young man used to wonder how long the servants had been standing there, for they were different from the ones who waited on him before his slumber, and they were always there upon his waking, but he'd long since stopped caring.
His eyes opened lazily, brow furrowed in disgust at the light peeking in through the heavy curtains that hung from golden rods encrusted with jewels. Someone would have to be whipped for allowing such a thing to disturb the prince's slumber, and someone assuredly would be. Rolling off the side of the bed and landing somewhat steadily on his feet, he rose to his full height and stretched from his fingertips to his toes, leaving nothing to the imagination of his servants (had they been looking, which they shouldn't have been else they'd be whipped) before lazily lurching towards his waiting bath.
The maidens, always maidens, sat by the nearly steaming hot pool with flower petals lazily swirling atop its surface, each one awaiting the prince to allow them to scrub him clean. This too, used to make him curious, how did they keep the water warm? The question flitted from his thoughts as soon as he slipped into the depression cut into the marble, as it had so many times before. The maidens used to excite him, when he was a youth, but now... They were little more than props, tools for his bath. He ignored them and they went about their duties, probably the best for everyone present that things went smoothly and silently in any case. When he was through, he was dried and dressed. Pants and shirt and coat, all cut to his exact measurements, lined with gold and exotic fur that the peasants could have traded for their homes. The materials, mundane and arcane, shimmered in the light as ghostly, wavering symbols and sigils of his house faded in and out of view.
A servant opened the door back to his bedroom, another the one to the hall, letting the rich, sweet scent sugared meat and salted eggs waft through the air. The prince made hurriedly for the dining hall, where indeed, an opulent breakfast awaited him. Eggs, scrambled, boiled, poached, and fried; rashers of bacon, all still sizzling as if fresh from the fryer; berries plucked and picked from across the kingdom, rich and ripe and in every color under the sun all sat upon the massive hardwood table. He sat down in the cushioned chair, ignoring the fresh round of servants that flocked around him as he picked his favorites from the hoard and ate his fill. He sighed as he pushed his plate away, almost into a servant's waiting hands to remove the soiled dish from the prince's presence, and rose to his feet, straightening out his coat before making his way towards the council chambers...
His eyes opened lazily, brow furrowed in disgust at the light peeking in through the heavy curtains that hung from golden rods encrusted with jewels. Someone would have to be whipped for allowing such a thing to disturb the prince's slumber, and someone assuredly would be. Rolling off the side of the bed and landing somewhat steadily on his feet, he rose to his full height and stretched from his fingertips to his toes, leaving nothing to the imagination of his servants (had they been looking, which they shouldn't have been else they'd be whipped) before lazily lurching towards his waiting bath.
The maidens, always maidens, sat by the nearly steaming hot pool with flower petals lazily swirling atop its surface, each one awaiting the prince to allow them to scrub him clean. This too, used to make him curious, how did they keep the water warm? The question flitted from his thoughts as soon as he slipped into the depression cut into the marble, as it had so many times before. The maidens used to excite him, when he was a youth, but now... They were little more than props, tools for his bath. He ignored them and they went about their duties, probably the best for everyone present that things went smoothly and silently in any case. When he was through, he was dried and dressed. Pants and shirt and coat, all cut to his exact measurements, lined with gold and exotic fur that the peasants could have traded for their homes. The materials, mundane and arcane, shimmered in the light as ghostly, wavering symbols and sigils of his house faded in and out of view.
A servant opened the door back to his bedroom, another the one to the hall, letting the rich, sweet scent sugared meat and salted eggs waft through the air. The prince made hurriedly for the dining hall, where indeed, an opulent breakfast awaited him. Eggs, scrambled, boiled, poached, and fried; rashers of bacon, all still sizzling as if fresh from the fryer; berries plucked and picked from across the kingdom, rich and ripe and in every color under the sun all sat upon the massive hardwood table. He sat down in the cushioned chair, ignoring the fresh round of servants that flocked around him as he picked his favorites from the hoard and ate his fill. He sighed as he pushed his plate away, almost into a servant's waiting hands to remove the soiled dish from the prince's presence, and rose to his feet, straightening out his coat before making his way towards the council chambers...
Here we go!
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