Dragon's Rest (069)

ZK

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Dragon's Rest

Dragon’s Rest is an unusual area, even for the Great Wind Desert. Most of its is simply lifeless sand dunes, but in the center of it lies the enormous skeleton of some unknown beast. The creature died laying on its side and is undeniably an impressive sight to see. Some nomadic groups leave offerings by the skeleton, claiming it brings good luck.
 

Typhon

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#2
This post marks the beginning of my mission using these storyboard elements:
-Investigate the history of a landmark (3)

Summary: This mission will be about an investigation into the history of Dragon's Rest, the place where Isako was found by the Tanuki. He has received a summons from his clan leader and is embarking on his first journey with the Black Order. Before leaving, he has decided to stop at the Dragon's Rest and leave an offering for good luck. During this visit, he has a strange encounter which reveals both the history of this landmark as well as some of his own.

[RP begins here]




It was always a sight to behold, the massive ivory bones of some long forgotten primordial beast. Coming from the west a series of dunes built a wall around the Dragon's Rest, hiding it from the coming travelers. A strong, hot gust of air swept down the sandy slopes. They were still some distance from the coast, but even here the salt lingered in the winds. It had been a long journey from Hachi-takioashisu, and far more lonely than usual without the caravan of Tanuki at his side. They had wanted to see him off to the sea, but Isako felt this journey would be better made alone. Old man Tanhage understood, and wished him well on his new path.

We're almost there. The voice snapped Isako from his thoughts. He whipped around looking for the hidden source, but none could be seen. Eh, what's got you on edge, kid? You've been acting weird this whole trip.

Isako plumped down on the slope of the dune and laid back, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. Ya, ya, I know. Just been thinking is all, too much quiet without the gang all here. He was no longer on the slopes of the dune, but instead in a large dark temple. His feet dipped below a shallow pool of water that sat on top a flat stone floor. A faint glow from torch-lined walls struggled against the darkness just enough to outline the shapes of the sanctum, and the beast that called it home. The monster inside Isako stood hunched over looking down at him, a behemoth of sand with piercing gold eyes. To Isako he was far from a monster, and more than just a tool sealed within him, he was a God. They called him the Incarnation of Sand, the Ichibi, the One-Tailed Beast, the Demon Raccon, he was Shukaku of the Sands. But Isako knew him best as Tankami, the father of all Tanuki. This place always make me feel weird, ya know, Tankami?

Shukaku leaned down bringing his face down to eye level with Isako. Well snap out of it, I don't like this place either! Never know what kind of nut job you're going to run into down at the old bones. Better get moving, almost dark out there ain't it? The Jinchuriki nodded and closed his eyes, returning to the desert once he opened them. He pushed himself back to his feet and trudged up the remainder of the dune. The slope bent forward and leveled out, the peak had been reached. Isako stood tall and held his rice hat in place as the winds whipped his lose robes. The setting sun gleamed off the pale bones making the dead look lively. The beast stretched over a hundred meters from tail to snout. Its massive jaws filled with peaking teeth, large enough to skewer a horse several times with one bite.

The sun fell down behind the horizon and the lively bones were once again dead. A good thing, thought Isako. The glow of fire took shape within the skeletal ribs, a common gathering place for the nomads who paid tribute to the dead. The journey down the western slopes was hasty, and Isako found himself standing below an outstretched arm before the moon had become more than an outline. He pushed aside a tattered cloth and entered the ribbed tent. A bright fire crackled in the middle illuminating a host of hard faces, gaunt and darkened by a harsh desert life. The gathered travelers eyed Isako taking his measure. It was a tense atmosphere, an eruption waiting for the wrong spark to ignite it. The desert folk were cautious. The basic resources were a rare commodity and other people were the quickest way to find them. A heavy hand clasped down on Isako's shoulder.

Well, well, well, look what we got here! If it isn't little Tankun! Geez, its been a long time, huh? You're all grown up! The hand belonged to a shorter man, stocky and strong. The grip stung, but there was no ill intent. Isako grinned from ear to ear, recognizing an old friend.

Kyahaha! No kiddin', I don't remember all that gray! How's it been Uskata? The room loosened and most people went back to their chores. Isako and Uskata took a seat by the fire and began to catch up. Isako was glad that it was this tribe he had come across, the Tusken. He and the Tanuki had come across their path quite a few times in the past, and of all the nomads he found them to be the most fun. He hadn't seen Uskata in years. The man was older now, slightly shrunken yet still firm as stone. They sat around the flame as the moon rose high recanting tales of the years since they last met. The Tusken laughed, and danced, and sang. It seemed that the night smoothed away the hardiness of their features and provided kinder, gentler shapes. Though perhaps that was true of all desert folk, as the night brought refuge from the oppressive sun.

The night's supply of ale came to a trickle and one by one the Tusken turned in for the night. Isoka found himself drifting into thoughts of the future, before that strong clasp returned. You got some things on your mind, huh? Thought it was odd the little fur balls weren't with ya. What's going on?

Isoka gulped down the last of his drink. Ahhh, ya know. Life! Setting out to make a name for myself, might not be seeing this place for who knows how long. He picked up a bone fragment and spun it in his fingers before tossing it into the flames.

Uskata followed suit, emptying his own cup and setting it aside. I see. So that's why you stopped here, eh? Coming back to where it all began, trying to close the book on the past before ya open the book of your future! Isoka hadn't remembered Uskata being this way with words, perhaps he had gained some wisdom in his old age.

Isoke raised an eyebrow at the advice. Wait, you know this is where they found me? Were you here? Perhaps he had been too young during their last visit for such a topic. Every since he was young, Isoka had craved an answer to where he had come from. If Uskata knew anything, he had to know.

You betcha! Gotta say it was strange seeing a baby sitting up there on the Dragon's Altar! Uskasa chuckled to himself. Strangest damned thing I'd ever seen. Seen people leave clothes, food, water, gold. Hell! I even saw one guy leave his damned foreskin up there! But a baby? Now that's somethin' else.

Isoka's mind began to race, his heart beating strong. He grabbed Uskasa by the shirt and nearly pushed him over in his eagerness. Then did you see them?! Did you see who left me?!

....ahh, see, I shoulda kept my big mouth shut. Shoulda known this was what had you itching. Wish I could help you fill in that page kid, but nope, when we arrived you were all alone. No trace of who or when you got put there. Wasn't any of us. Maybe the Gruun? Could have been the Ojai too. Hell, coulda been a random passerby! Isoka's heart sank and his hands fell limp. Uskasa patted him on the back, not sure what to say.

Damn... Isoka placed his head in his hands and looked down at the sand. It seemed the answer he was searching for would remain out of arms reach. He felt a sudden surge of bravado, a fire building in his guts. Screw it! It doesn't matter who they were, all that matters is who I am! I'm Isoka Tanryu, the child of the sand, and the vessel of Tankami! He stood up tall, the flames dancing shadows across his face. And! ....I gotta take a piss!




Isoka stumbled out of the ribbed tent with a renewed sense of worth, perhaps aided by the ale sitting in his stomach. He swayed between the bones of the beast until he stood too tall and knocked his head against a low hanging rib. He shouted and cursed and kicked sand at the bones. Stupid fucking dragon! Lets see how ya like this! He released his own dragon and unleashed a stream of yellow onto what looked like a vertebra. Once relieved he found a quiet spot by the beast's tail and rested against the bones, falling again into deep thought. Several minutes later he noticed a robed man gliding slowly across the sand. He didn't remember seeing such a man in the tent, perhaps a traveler who had preferred his own company to that of the nomads. Still, it was late and something about the man seemed off. Isoka stood and quietly crept across the sand, following the mysterious figure.

They traveled past the dragon's tail and entered a hidden crevasse which trickled down a slope that was more rock than sand. The gully twisted and turned and narrowed before widening into a clearing. A large stone stood in the center with a dark door-like opening. The man disappeared into the doorway, and Isoka followed after. It was pitch black in the cave, but not impossible to navigate for a man such as Isoka. After a short distance the tunnel opened into a large open cavern with moonlight pouring in through a jagged maw above. The old man was standing in front of a large stone slab, illuminated by the light and covered in paintings.

The man spoke, his back to Isoka and his eyes trained on the slab. I'm glad you've come.

Isoka leaped back and slid a kunai into his right hand. Ya? And why is that? He had never seen this man before, that he was sure of. Was it a hunter, come for his head?

The man turned to face him. His head was bare, his eyes deep and gray. A soft smile gave way to a long silken beard, grey as his eyes and reaching down to his waist. "Hmm? Oh, I see. No, no. Not you, my boy. I was speaking to him."

"The hell ya talkin' about old man, its just me and you here." They were alone, the nomads above weren't skilled enough to follow.

"Hmm. Is that so? You mean to tell me he's not in there?" The old man gave a knowing smile.

Isoka knew who the old man was referring to before he asked, yet he hoped he was wrong and asked anyway. "...who?"[/COLOR]

The old man laughed, "Ho-oh! Shukaku, of course."

Isoka would not wait any further. He loosed the kunai at the man, but it seemed to pass right through him. Suddenly the man was before him. Isoka tried to back away but he found the cavern wall blocked his escape. The old man reached up and touched Isoka's forehead, and suddenly they were both within Shukaku's sanctum.

"Hmm. There he is. Its been some time, Shukaku." The old man stood tall, looking up at Shukaku with his arms cross behind his back. Isoka gritted his teeth, unsure of how they had come to this place.

Shukaku expressed a rare sense of surprise. "Echiki...you're still here...? How?"

"...Echiki? What the hell is goin' on here? Who the hell is this old man?" Isoka allowed his guard to relax. There was a familiarity between this Echiki and Shukaku.

"Hmm. I see. You haven't told him, have you Shukaku? Ho-oh, you haven't changed one bit, have you? Fine boy, let me show you. Come with me, to this place a hundred years in the past." The sanctum swirled and sand flowed through, building and building, before subsiding away. Isoka was standing atop a dune with the night sky above. He recognized the constellations and knew he was atop the western dunes overlooking the Dragon's Rest. Yet, it was not the same place. The bones of the dragon were nowhere to be seen.

Thunder boomed behind him and a gust of wind almost threw him off the dune. Isoka spun around to see two massive shadows clashing in the moonlight. A creature larger than anything he had ever seen swooped through the air and let loose a brilliant golden flame. A stream of sand rose from the desert and collided with the dragon's fire, the clash triggering another thundering boom. Glinting flecks fell around them all, sand turned to glass from the flames.

"The dragon terrorized these lands for many years. A beast of unimaginable rage and power. Why it chose this desert I could not say, but the people could no longer abide its reign." The beast dropped down on Shukaku from above, crushing him into the sands which cascaded outward as a roaring wave. The old man put up a hand and parted the rapids as they passed by them both.

"No human could stand against it, and so my people sought his help. He scoffed at first, but his heart is not as cold as he displays." Pressure blasted outward from where the two beasts battled. The dragon was flung back through the air, passing over head before steadying itself in the air above. It fluttered its wings and released a wave of wind down at Shukaku, who matched the attack with wind of his own. The air clashed violently kicking up small tornadoes throughout the area.

"Hmm. What a battle it was! Sand gathered into the air above the dragon and then came crashing down, driving the beast into the ground on the other side of the dune. Shukaku leaped over the dune and came down atop the dragon, raining down a series of punches, each one echoing throughout the desert. The dragon whipped its tail up from behind Shukaku and wrapped its bony length around Shukaku's neck. It pulled itself free and threw Shukaku into a dune which collapsed beneath his weight. Shukaku threw a wave of sand at the dragon and sprang forward.

"We fought valiantly, I must say. And, the dragon was..." A piercing shriek interrupted Echiki. Shukaku had wrapped his hands around the winged demon's massive throat. They pushed against one another, the dragon snapping its maw, inching closer and closer. Shukaku began to get pushed back, but Isoka could see sand building thicker around the dragon's neck. Unable to reach further, the dragon opened its mouth and a golden glow took root in the back of its throat. The dragon's flames flowed forward and crashed into Shukaku's body, sending sand spraying to the sides, but Shukaku held his ground. He roared and a pulse traveled down his arms to the sand around the dragon's neck. The crunch of bone was accompanied by a misting of blood which reached into the sky and rained down across the surrounding dunes. The golden flames extinguished, and the dragon's body fell lifeless.

"Vanquished. But, the toll...was too great." Shukaku dropped to a knee, the front of his body was cratered into a glassy bowl. The melted sand prevented him from reforming the wound. Slowly, the sand of his body began to fall, crumbling away and returning to the desert. His body gave way to a large mound of sand, and at the peak laid Echiki, the life gone from his body.

"I could not withstand the battle, and so it was here that I died. I waited for my spirit to pass, but that day eluded me." Time seemed to speed up, the moon and sun took turns rounding the sky, and the dragon's body began to break down. It was too large for the desert to consume, and so it remained half-protruding with its grand white bones. Echiki had long since disappeared beneath the sands, his body lost to time.

"Shukaku was bound to me still, yet we both were trapped in a state of in-between. That is, until you arrived." They were now before the Dragon's Altar, and a heavily clothed man stood before it. In his arms was a crying infant, wrapped in silken cloth, words written across the fabric. The man placed the child upon the altar and left, his face hidden throughout the memory.

The old man seemed to split and a shade of him approached the altar. "Never before had a child been left at this place. I was reminded of my own grandson and went to see the child. It cried and cried, and I wanted to sooth its sadness, but could not in my state. I reached out to hold its hand, and when I did, something happened." Energy flowed from Echiki's hand, streaming into the child's body. In a moment it was over, and the memory of Echiki seemed to disappear.

The sands swirled again before giving way to the inner sanctum. Echiki was smiling at Isoka. "And here we are. Shukaku was freed, thanks to you. And perhaps I was too, yet I had grown accustomed to this place and so I lingered." The old man looked up at his old friend. "Perhaps...this is what I needed. To see that he has found happiness again. Hmm. Yes, I think that it is time. What do you say old friend?"

Shukaku turned away, growling. "Ho-oh! I can see those tears my friend, you cannot hide them from me." He turned to Isoka. "I'm glad it was you who was left on the altar. Take care of him, will you? Good bye, Isoka Tanryu." He turned back to Shukaku. "Goodbye, my friend."

Echiki's body began to fade. Shukaku turned to his old friend and fought back the tears. "Be at peace, you old fool!" Shukaku let out a mournful howl, and Isoka awoke, seated against the dragon's tail where he had been the night before.




The dream had lingered with Isoka throughout the morning. He described it to Shukaku, but the beast simply scoffed at his attempts and told him to forget such fantasies. He helped the Tuskens pack their camp and thanked Uskasa for the night before. The nomads departed over the dunes, to wander their endless lands. Isoka lingered for some time before gathering his own belongings. Still, the dream pulled at him. Unable to shake it, Isoka returned to where he had rested the night before. He thought back to the dream and began to retrace the old man's steps.

Down the crevasse, through the winding ravine, and there in the center of a clearing stood the cavern door. Isoka raced into the dark and weaved through the tunnels as if he had been there before. He exited into a cavern filled with daylight, shining down on a large slab of rock. Isoka approached it and examined the paintings. They showed the dragon, and its reign of terror. They showed a pact being made between man and beast. They showed a world-shaping battle between Shukaku and the Dragon. And they showed Echiki in his final resting place.

Isoka smiled and entered the inner sanctum, "Kyaha, I get it now! So all this time the offerings and the luck, that was you, huh? All these idiots thinkin' some stupid dragon was giving them luck, but you were just thanking them for remembering Echiki, weren't ya?"

Shukaku laughed mockingly. "Ya right! As if I'd be sentimental over some old fool! In your dreams, literally!" Isoka didn't respond, he just chuckled and kept grinning. "Quit it, brat! Your 'KAMI' commands it! Cut it out!"

"Fine, fine, I got it. But there's one thing I gotta know big guy, why didn't ya tell me?" Isoka relaxed himself, and spoke with more sincerity. He and Shukaku had been together at the Dragon's Rest before, and yet he had never told Isoka the truth.

The beast looked down at him and breathed deeply. "Grr...hell if I know...It just...I just...What the hell business is it of yours?! If you don't get moving we're going to miss the boat! Lets get out of here."

Isoka sighed, "Oh, fine. You don't gotta tell me, I think I got ya figured out, Tankami. Buried in that sand is a damn fine heart!" He turned to leave the cavern but remembered that he never placed his gift at the Dragon's Altar. "Almost forgot! I think I got the perfect gift this time." He reached into his bag and pulled out a silken cloth, the same cloth he was wrapped in when left at the altar. He walked over to the stone slab and placed the cloth at its base, his final offering to the Dragon's Rest.

With his heart content with the past, he departed from the Dragon's Rest and he made his way to the coast. Isoka boarded a merchant's boat and set sail for his next grand adventure.
 
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Goetia

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#5
Resetting with Ozymandias, King of Kings

This post will also mark the beginning of my mission using these storyboard elements:

Explore the history of something (3)
Fight an enemy stronger than yourself (4)

Mission Rank: A (4)

Synopsis: Having finally made his journey to the mainland, Ozymandias begins scouring the land in order to gain his bearings. With no other goal in mind, his ambling takes him towards the remains of a large creature that has long since died. In an attempt to learn more of the history behind them, meets a particularly dangerous individual, one that threatens the livelihood of its region's denizens.​




With each step the pharaoh took in the dunes, the more this land began to feel like home. His home country was much like the geography he had been navigating through since his departure from Camelot and parting with the leader of the Fallen, Amara. Stepping over the peak of a tall hill of sand, he stops briefly to survey the area. For as far as the eye could see, it was naught but dunes of sand that rose and fell to the horizon, the coloration of the minerals being of stark contrast to the deep blue of the midday sky. Large brown clouds were also observable, no doubt sandstorms which were commonplace in this region. Ozymandias' golden eyes scan the horizon, looking for a destination, something to go towards, but there was nothing. That was, except for a large skeleton which sat in a plateau in the dunes. Descending the hill, Ozymandias made his way to the distant structure at a comfortable pace. The sweltering heat was of little concern to the pharaoh, he had grown used to these temperatures as a child, they were commonplace in his home country.

Reaching the graveyard of bones, notices the boxes and pots of incense left around the bones, as well as eagle feathers. It would seem that whatever creature this was, it was the subject of worship by the communities of the region. The arrangement of the bones indicated that the creature died on its side...he was standing at its abdomen. Looking to his right, the bones became smaller and smaller, being as tall as he was. Following the arrangement of the skeleton, he comes to a stop beside a more defined, identifiable structure; the head of the dead creature. It appeared reptilian in overall structure, with horn-like protrusions on its head that bent backwards, their tips pointing in the direction of the rest of the body. Putting a single hand to the head of the skeleton, Ozymandias runs his hands along its smooth surface. Next to the creature's maw was a small wooden board which had words carved into it, though they were now ineligible. Perhaps, the creature's identity was inscribed to it, but the words have faded with time and exposure to the elements. With this in mind, Ozymandias sacrifices a small portion of his chakra, and his senses connect to the afterlife. Ethereal matter begins to manifest beneath Ozymandias' hand, forming around the rest of the creature's skeletal remains. He couldn't feel the scales that appeared to grow forth from the matter, but their toughness could surely be surmised from their mere observation. The ethereal matter takes complete form, and an eye opens next to where Ozymandias has his hand. Knowing it was only a spirit, Ozymandias did not flinch, but was instead curious as to how the spirit would react upon being observed.

(Fūinjutsu: Sainō Kōshōjin) – Sealing Technique: Ars Notoria
Type: Supplementary
Rank: C
Range: Short – Long
Chakra: 15
Damage: N/A
Description: A technique derived from the Dead Demon Consuming Seal; this technique enables one to view the spirits of the dead. The Dead Demon Consuming Seal, when summoning the Shinigami, enables some level of spiritual awareness and connection to the Death God. This is evident in Hiruzen’s capability to view the Death God alone when summoning it, something that Orochimaru was only able to do when his spirit was being pulled from his body. With this technique the user establishes a connection to the afterlife, rather than the singular Shinigami, allowing them to view the spirits of those who have perished long ago wandering the earth. This does not allow the user to view spirits of those from Yin Release, or other clan abilities. Rather, this is a cosmetic technique designed to allow the user to view the dead strictly for RP purposes. Once activated, lasts until deactivated.



The spirit raises its head, and stands from its prone position. Removing his hand from the skull, Ozymandias steps back to observe the beast. Dark scales stretch along the entirety of its body, some of them appearing to ripple and shift on the side of its stomach. Wings sprout forth from its body, which tells Ozymandias all he needs to know.

"Hou... one of the dragon-kind."

Hearing the words of the pharaoh, the dragon's spirit turns its eyes to the foreign monarch. It lowers its head to more closely inspect the human, the snout of the beast being only a meter from Ozymandias. A moment of silence is shared between the two, the pharaoh observing the majesty of a beast which has long left the world, and the spirit curiously inspecting the ornately dressed smaller life form. In a deep, booming voice, the spirit speaks to the pharaoh.

"Your kind are regular visitors of my grave, but you are the first to see me with my original appearance since I died. You're not of the tribes, or even of the region..."

Raising its body, the spirit straightens itself as it stands, posturing itself at its full height. It keeps its sights centered on Ozymandias, the narrowing of its eyes indicating a transition from curiosity to suspicion. "So, I'll ask now. Who are you?"

The pharaoh remains silent for a moment, wondering what could be cause for the spirit to be wary. It was dead, so what did it have to fear from outside influence? Perhaps it simply didn't want to be disturbed. "My name is Ozymandias. A ruler from another country, far from here."

The dragon closes its eyes, softening his expression slightly, and eyes the pharaoh again. "A king... I thought as much." Ozymandias shows no reaction to the caustic tone of the spirit's words, though it did perplex him. Waving his hand, as if to brush something from his face, he speaks yet again to the spirit of the great beast. "I shall ignore your tone for now, dragon. I'd rather know the reason for it than have you apologise."

The spirit narrows its eyes again, and scoffs mockingly at the pharaoh's words. "You kings are the kind to imprison and enslave for your own entertainment, are you not? Myself, and my kin, were not exempt. I was lucky to have died out here, as opposed to a temple built to contain me. Where I would be kept till I was brought out for the amusement of a lord, or their acquaintances. Others were held captive simply for the sake of 'protecting the people'. We were a peaceful species. Rare were the times we infringed on the territory of humans. And now..." The spirit nods to his own remains, looking down on Ozymandias with an expression of mild disdain. The words of the beast do not fall on deaf ears. Not even two years ago, he had imprisoned a religious minority for practicing worship of their own god. It was the correct thing to do, by the laws of the land, but it had come at a great cost. Perhaps this was the world's reminder of that incident. Ozymandias could not say he was no such man, for he was guilty of this act in his life.

"What is your name, beast?"

The spirit meets the question with silence, deciding whether to answer or simply to go back to sleep. "Tarasque."

"Tell me, Tarasque. The lord who imprisoned your kind, made a victim of your brothers and sisters. Does their lineage persist?"

Tarasque's raises a brow at the question, unsure of the meaning or intent of the human before him. "I would not know. I died hundreds of years ago. For certain, they were alive at the time of my demise. But now..." The sound of chatter could be heard nearby, which interrupted the words of the spirit. It looked to the top of the dune, where Ozymandias had himself come from, and at its peak, he could see a group standing atop the hill of sand. They descended, and Tarasque only spoke one word. "Nomads."

Ozymandias turned to face the group of travelers, who had no doubt come from all over the region to visit the remains of the great beast whose spirit he was currently speaking to. Obviously, they were unaware of the presence of Tarasque's spirit, but he watched as they each came to stand next to his age-old skeleton, at a different spot along the body, leaving their own offerings in reverence for him. They paid no heed to the pharaoh, and those who did only gave a brief nod in greeting. Ozymandias counted a large number of people, many of them bearing different patterns of body painting and varied clothing choices. The ones who'd come to give their offerings to the skeleton were only a fraction of the people, most of which were still making their way over the dunes.

"These folk have been coming to place offerings here for many years. Unlike lords and royalty, they value the sanctity of all life."

"I am no mere lord. The mongrels that you call lords are only that, unworthy to be labelled as anything more than such."

Silence falls on the pharaoh and the spirit. They observe the continual flow of nomads placing their offerings at Tarasque's skeleton, and the gradual departure of the tribes that had gathered. Tarasque himself pondered further on the pharaoh's choice of words, wondering whether they were born of arrogance, or if it was an attempt at sullying their names as an indirect gesture of sympathy. Perhaps, it may have been both. Neither of the two spoke further on the matter.

"Are there any more of your kind still alive today?" The pharaoh inquired. Tarasque replied without facing Ozymandias, his tone being casual, and rather matter-of-fact. "Doubtful. Many of us were captured and kept as pets for lords, the rest went into hiding for fear of suffering the same fate. We are blessed with longevity, but..."

Wordlessly, Ozymandias begins to walk away from Tarasque's spirit, walking the path of footsteps left by the nomadic tribes from minutes earlier. Drawing on the Prana within his body, he prepares to enter the Throne, but the booming voice of Tarasque stops him.

"In the Land of Fire, there is a mountain, Mount Ishinabe. You may be able to find another of my kind there, assuming they are not dead or moved on. If you do stumble onto one, tread carefully. The dragonkind do not take kindly to humans. Much less, kings."

Severing his connection to the spiritual plane, Ozymandias briefly surges the ethereal energy of the Throne throughout his body. In a bright flicker of golden light, he vanishes, leaving Tarasque to return to slumber. His next destination would be the mountain Tarasque spoke of.


Type: Defensive/Supplementary
Rank: A-S
Range: Short-Long
Chakra Cost: 30-40
Damage Points: N/A
Description: Considered the sibling of the Era of Gods and Dynasty of Kings, the Majesty of the Pendragon involves surging a large amount of Prana throughout the user’s body in order to enter the Throne. Their body, and everything on their person, will disappear instantly in a flash of light reflecting the color of their Prana. The user will then reappear amidst another flash of light at a location of their choosing; despite its nature, this process takes a few moments. Reappearing is accompanied by a crackling sound, creating both an audible and visual queue. This is enabled by the fact that the ethereal energy constantly exists within their chakra systems. Twice per battle the user can utilize a stronger version of this ability to prolong their stay in the Throne. This allows them to exist within the alternate dimension as Prana, which effectively places their body in a stasis. This halts blood loss, the propagation of poisons, the duration of active techniques/abilities, and any other aliments or conditions. This will happen for as long as the user is within the Throne. The user can only remain there for a maximum of four turns per usage. As long as the user re-appears on the battlefield on in the same landmark, then using this technique will not count toward escaping battle. If the user opts to re-appear in a different landmark then they will effectively forfeit the battle and the event. This only applies if the user utilizes Majesty while engaged in battle and not travel purposes. The first application, considered A-Rank, can only be used once every four turns. It can also only be used four times per battle. The second application, considered S-Rank, can only be used twice per battle and operates on the same cooldown as the A-Rank version. S-Rank applications render the user unable to use S-Rank or higher Prana for the next turn, if the user remains in the Throne for longer than a turn.


~LLM
 
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