Daeranyx_Drakonar
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Peaceful Times
🕑 Added 2024-08-13 17:59:06 +0000 UTCAs time progressed, my boredom grew, and the wind's impact lessened. Thus, I began to act within my capabilities. After tightening the straps, I drew my wand. Since obtaining it, I've been eager to attempt something unprecedented in the HP universe: to unleash a pure magical blast. No one has done this before, but I'm curious to see the outcome of such an experiment.
The Essence of The Blank would enable me to learn any skill. Another essential element in this endeavor is the magic power, of which I have an abundant amount. Firing pure magical blasts could grant me greater control over the magic I currently possess. Perhaps with the Essence and the combined skills of wizards, I might even learn to perform magic without a wand. I tried to sense the magic within my body but felt nothing. After some time without success, I switched tactics; I gripped my wand tightly and focused intently on releasing the magic.
Nope not a damn thing happened. After hour or two not getting a success. I started to think what is that I am doing wrong here. I started from basic for performing magic one need is intent, wand movement and incantation. I do not possess later two, but I thought I could bypass it by with the help of Essence. It seems to do that I need more time.
After pondering over this dilemma, I concluded that there must be a solution to aid me in this predicament. Eventually, I stumbled upon a workaround, though I'm uncertain of its efficacy. Nonetheless, it's worth a shot since I have nothing to lose at this point. My approach is to harness imagination, for magic cannot be rationalized through logic; it either contradicts or alters the very fabric of reality, which in itself defies logic. Therefore, imagination, coupled with a strong intent, may just be the crucial elements I need to unleash a barrage of blasts.
I began by visualizing a gun firing bullets, its inner workings, and the various mechanisms that propel the bullet outward. After thoroughly imagining this, I started to form a clear picture in my mind, with a strong intention of projecting my magic outward, similar to how a bullet is propelled. Although I didn't see results on my first attempt, I persisted because this was the only method I could conceive of, and as time gradually passed, I continued my practice. Occasionally, Anarion would glance back, noticing my intense concentration on something. He did his best to avoid performing any acrobatics that might disturb me.
What a considerate dragon he is. Although I haven't yet succeeded in firing my magic blast, I know I'm improving at an astonishing rate. I used to feel magic in other things, but now, I can somewhat sense it coursing from my stomach to my hand and into the wand. This motivates me to work harder, as I now know I'm heading in the right direction.
****
While I was attempting to perform a magic blast, Anarion suddenly dove down. His abrupt action caused me to lose my balance since I was completely focused on the task at hand, prompting me to readjust myself in the saddle. I endeavored to understand why he took such action, as he would not do so without reason.
It seems we've arrived at Chroyane. After instructing him to descend and circle the city, the architecture that comes into view, as much as can be discerned from its ruined state, bears some resemblance to Greek structures. However, I cannot be certain, having never visited Greece, though I have seen numerous images online. As I soared above the city, I could spot stone figures lurking in the shadows, made visible by the midday sun. Unlike Valyria, Chroyane isn't shrouded in darkness, but a thick fog veils the city, preventing a clear view of the finer details.
After a thorough examination of Chroyane, we continued our journey towards Braavos. However, I pondered why the Rhoynar residing in Dorne never attempted to reclaim what remained of Chroyane. Following the fall of Valyria and the dwindling number of dragons, they might have used magic to challenge the remaining Targaryen dragons and establish a new empire. Perhaps they did try but were thwarted by the remnants of the Rhoyne's populace. It is rumored that some people still dwell along the banks of the Rhoyne.
It's not my concern. As we continued our journey to Braavos, I resumed practicing my magic. Hours flew by, and as we approached Braavos, I realized we had little time left; the sun was setting, and we were only just nearing the city. I decided not to travel at night since we both required rest. Moreover, Anarion hadn't eaten anything this time. Although he could still proceed, rest was equally crucial.
After instructing Anarion to fly low and scout for a place where we could rest for the night, we landed at the base of the mountains. I began collecting wood and asked Anarion to hunt for us. With a growl that sounded more like a snicker, he took to the skies. I ignored his laughter; I had no desire to hunt when I could use that time to practice and perfect my blast, especially since I felt a breakthrough was near.
After gathering the wood, I began to practice the fire spell, which would be useful in the absence of a fire starter. It wasn't long before I could ignite a flame with the "Incendio" spell. It seems that as a dragon lord, I have a natural affinity for fire. Once the campfire was lit and the wood was arranged, Anarion returned, carrying a pig in each claw and a horse in his jaws.
He appears more comical than the fearsome dragon he is, taking care to land gently to avoid creating a mess with his weight. After some clumsy attempts and a full belly, I resumed my practice of creating the blast. As night falls, it grows quite dark. The only sound I could hear was Anarion's snoring, as all the animals had fled the area due to his presence.
I sat by the tree, closed my eyes, and attempted to perform the blast. After a while, I could sense the magic flowing, but it dissipated each time it emerged from the wand. Then, I began to amplify the magical energy with every try. Upon quintupling the energy compared to my earlier efforts, I finally succeeded. A shout of triumph escaped me, accompanied by a pure magical blast that snapped Anarion awake. He surveyed the destruction caused by the blast and then gazed at my wand and me with curious eyes.
Subsequently, I became proficient in it and began to experiment by infusing it with more energy to amplify its power. The amplified blast significantly drained my substantial reserves, but it effortlessly shattered a rock twice my size into small pebbles. With further practice, I reached a point where I felt this was my limit, and I could not channel more energy than this.
I walked over to Anarion and lay by his side, using him as my support. After a minute or two, his wings unfolded at my feet, and he adjusted them so they served as a blanket for me. I smiled at the gesture, and we both dozed off.
*****
As the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, Anarion awoke, and his stirring roused me from sleep. With Anarion's guidance, finding the lake was effortless. Once he had deposited me nearby, he set off on his usual hunt. Having attended to my needs and bathed, I donned my riding leathers, which offered more comfort atop the saddle than my previous clothes.
After some reflection and sifting through my memories, I discovered a spell that could be quite beneficial for my adventure. The Water-Making Spell, also known as the Aguamenti Charm, conjures a jet of clean, drinkable water from the caster's wand tip. This ensures a supply of fresh water whenever needed, which is why I began practicing this spell upon mastering the wand movements and incantation.
After twenty attempts, water finally emerged from my wand. I'm determined to master this spell so I can conjure water in the desert. There's a more destructive variant of this spell, "Aguamenti Maxima," which ejects water with much greater force from the wand's tip. But I'm in no rush; with the paths I'm taking, what could possibly go astray? Did I just jinx myself? No way! With Anarion by my side, nothing could go awry.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Once I was seated in the saddle, we began our ascent into the heavens. Kidding it's not cultivation novel. Soon, we encountered a colossal titan, a sight to behold indeed. Truly, this world is full of wonders. Soaring higher than the titan, we passed Braavos and proceeded towards our next destination, the Fingers of the Vale.
****
The journey to the Fingers was shorter than the last. It's midday, and the lands are visible from here. Anarion quickened his pace each time he consumed fish. For half the journey, all I did was fire the blast. Afterwards, I savored the view, which was too splendid to overlook, for from this vantage point, all one can see is water.
As we circled the mountains, Anarion spotted a herd of sheep and began to dive down. His gluttony was apparent; even after eating so much, he remained unsatisfied. While he devoured the sheep, I surveyed our surroundings. The Vale was indeed mountainous, peaks visible in every direction. Amidst my observation of the distant trees, a vast shadow was cast over us. It was mid-day, and instinctively, I looked up to see a dragon amidst the clouds.
It is of a muddy brown color. Though smaller than Anarion, it is no less dangerous, appearing quite wild. I squinted my eyes, trying to see if it had any riders. However, there was no saddle, and with the color of this dragon, I recognized it as the Sheepstealer, its angry roar confirming my speculation. Hearing the roar, Anarion looked up, having ignored Sheepstealer's existence until now, and let out his own roar, sounding like a mix between a high-pitched shriek and an older dragon's roar. After hearing Anarion's roar, Sheepstealer began to flee, but upon seeing Anarion resume feeding on the sheep, Sheepstealer let out a roar that was louder than the previous one.
I certainly jinxed myself earlier, didn't I? I ought to have known better. Yet, this still doesn't clarify why Sheepstealer is in the Vale. According to the books, he should have been at Dragonstone. Even though the ROB indicated that this world would deviate from the books, I hadn't anticipated such alterations. As panic took hold, Anarion perceived Sheepstealer's roar as a challenge and started to ascend, heading straight for Sheepstealer who was coming towards us.
I've just arrived in Westeros and already I'm expected to battle a wild dragon. But I refuse to do so. I won't engage with Sheepstealer and reveal my presence to all of Westeros. The dragon's prolonged absence cannot be a mere coincidence. The Targaryens must be monitoring their dragons, and Sheepstealer's disappearance would surely raise their suspicions. Besides, it's unlikely we would emerge from such a fight unscathed. Therefore, I've decided to take the course of action I believe is best for us.
"Lykiri Anarion Lykiri," I called out to Anarion, hoping to soothe his fury. Yet, it was a fruitless effort; Anarion was seething, and a palpable bloodlust emanated from him. Nonetheless, the Drakonar lineage is renowned for their dragon-taming prowess. As the gap between us narrowed, I drew a whip from my saddle, crafted from dragon hide. A single lash might not injure him, but a sustained assault could. With a swift crack of the whip across his neck, Anarion snapped out of his frenzied state and let out a roar of disapproval.
This time, I commanded with great force and an authoritative tone, "Ñuhyzagon, Anarion!" Upon hearing this, he complied with my commands, though with some angry growls. Just as we were about to engage with Sheepstealer, Anarion veered to the side and started flying towards the mountains. (Withdraw, Anarion)
Although I hadn't fully anticipated that the sheepstealer would leave us alone, I did expect him to head towards the sheep carcasses to feed, since that was the reason he started the fight in the first place. Contrary to my expectations, he let out a roar of provocation and began to follow us. Given the size difference, he should have been faster, but not when compared to Anarion, who could outpace him any day. However, Anarion was slightly worn out from our long journey, which was enough for the Sheepstealer to keep up with us.
As we weave through the mountain valleys with Sheepstealer in pursuit, Anarion skillfully turns his body each time the dragon breathes fire, shielding me from harm. I anticipate Sheepstealer's fatigue, yet he grows increasingly aggressive, quickening his pace in an attempt to ensnare us.
With the sky overcast during the day, Anarion's white color would provide us enough cover to escape. Once we gained a head start, Anarion would be able to carry us to safety. I gave the command, "Naejot Jēda, Anarion," despite the disapproving gaze he cast upon me each time. The shame was inevitable; here was a dragon who had survived a battle with two seasoned war dragons older than himself, and yet I was instructing him to flee from a dragon unworthy of his attention. Anarion's pride is as fierce as his ferocity. His survival in that battle made other houses hesitate before considering an attack on our house. (Towards the sky. Anarion,)
It is said that even after slaying the first of the two dragons, he did not retreat. Wounded, he battled the second dragon and emerged triumphant. Thus, suggesting that he flee from Sheepstealer wounds his pride. Were I not a Drakonar, a dragon as fierce as he would never heed my commands. As a Targaryen once stated, "The idea that we control dragons is an illusion," but that does not apply to me. For I am a Drakonar, and we command our dragons, not vice versa. They must heed our commands, for it is our birthright as Dragon Lords of Drakonar House.
As we ascended into the sky, Sheepstealer attempted to follow, but within the clouds, Anarion had the advantage of stealth. With Anarion's swift pace, we managed to evade any conflict with Sheepstealer. As Anarion began to decelerate and survey the surroundings for Sheepstealer, we found ourselves alone amidst the clouds. After one more glance through the clouds, I turned to Anarion and apologized, "Ōñus Vūjagon, Anarion." ( Forgive me. Anarion )
Before Anarion could reply, flames burst forth beneath us. Anarion attempted to evade, but it was a narrow escape. Although we avoided the full brunt of the fire, Anarion soon emitted a painful roar; I was unharmed, but the fire had scorched Anarion's belly. From my position, I couldn't see the extent of the injury, but it must have been severe, given the loudness of Anarion's cries. Anarion then accelerated, flying faster to escape the Sheepstealer emerging from beneath the clouds.
As I realized the price of my cowardliness and naivety has caused pain to Anarion. I let out a rueful shout " Fuck the cover and fuck you sheepstealer." Hearing my angry shouting,Anarion turned around to look at me after seeing the fire in my eyes. He let out a roar of happiness.
I tightened the straps around the saddle and commanded Anarion to turn around. Upon hearing that, he roared so loudly that my blood began to boil with excitement and anticipation. As he turned, there he was, right on our tail. Seeing Sheepstealer, I decided that either we would leave here alive or drag him to the grave with us. There was no way I would let him leave here alive; he was going to die here, one way or another.
I grasp my wand tightly in my right hand and issue a command to Anarion., "Sāndor. Anarion" (Attack or To Battle, Anarion)
