Xander

Lore Dragon - Permanent Resident

(More lore to come)

(Origin lair LionHeart27)

“His runes were a bit dimmer, his coat a bit limp, but he was still powerful, a bit more powerful than them.”



The Gladekeeper’s Call - The Call without an Answer (Prequel to Red Tide)

“ I really don’t have time for this.”

The young tundra mage had been researching the disappearance of his deity. He was sure, absolutely sure, that the Tidelord was on some great mission, for which he was sometimes called crazy. He was just as absolutely sure that the Water god had not abandoned them, for which some considered him too blindly optimistic to live. The latter was harder to deal with, to see them fading away into impotent sadness, to feel them dragging him into the depths of apathy

But like most of the uneasy Water flight, he could not erase the queasy thought that their lord was somehow in trouble, and that they had to do something. For Xander, it felt like the call of a drum pounding through him, a message not *for* him, but one he had to relay to its intended target.

He had to find the Tidelord himself. No one who had tried - and there were many - had come back. Perhaps they were dead, but Xander preferred to imagine that they had simply joined the Tidelord in his quest. That was far better than the apathy, that floated on the water like suffocating oil, and fouled the heart. He was going to go now, and face whatever came.

When his search led him to the depths beyond the Tidepools, he discovered something horrible far closer to home and far earlier than he had expected he would. The waters almost seemed gray in places, empty of oxygen, and some places reddish like an algae bloom, their currents sluggish all but stilled. He hoped this was local. He couldn’t bear to think of the whole Sea dying. But what else could happen, when the Sea’s own Source, Tidelord himself, was gone?

Suddenly, there was another dragon in front of him, as red as the bloom he had emerged from, his water eyes bright, almost feverish. The feel of him said *eaten*, as if it was merely the shell of a dragon, as if some nothing that was still present both filled and emptied him. He had no idea what this was. He had heard of the Shade, some ghost of history past and no longer relevant, only a bugaboo from a hatchling’s story.

“You do not belong here. Depart.” The guardian intoned, voice lifeless as a puppet.

“I do belong here, this is my world too, and I am on business - ” The tundra replied, moving quickly to sidestep the old behemoth who rushed him, giving no sign that he had heard him. Xander’s response was a stunning magical defense, that to his own surprise, sent the guardian reeling in the water, and sinking as if dead.

Had they sent someone already dying and useless to face him? Surely, whoever was in charge here had no feeling for his people, except to consume them, and send their empty husks against their enemies.

Xander’s self-appointed mission was not that urgent, that he could think of abandoning the dying like this. He used his magic instead to pull the poor thing up into the tide pools. Much of the red tide came with him, as if it bled from him. The tundra instantly regretted fouling the tide pools with this. The presence of two female guardians on the beach, however, gave him hope that the nearly extinguished dragon would find some aid.

The next dragons in his way were stronger, healthier, and he realized the first one had only been a distraction. He was in a battle in earnest, his runes glowing brightly in the murk, showing him shadows that seemed to be water, but were not. Were not anything, but simply voids where water itself had ceased to exist, leaving only -

Hunger. A something-nothing, that pulled at him, chewing on his fur and exposed skin like little open mouths of needle teeth, with no body attached to them. The area filled with its ravenous nothingness, was vaster than he could comprehend. Dragon after dragon came at him, eyes wide and feverish and unseeing and empty. They were puppets. Controlled.

“I really don’t have time for this.”

His runes were a bit dimmer, his coat limp, clinging to his flesh as if oiled there; but he was still powerful, a bit more powerful than them. He could not eradicate this alone, but if he could get away, he could find others who could help. He hoped. He wondered if the Tidelord knew about this infestation, that had so solidly buried itself in his home, like a clump of vile and undead coral.

Xander felt for whatever living water he could find, and spun it into one of the thousand currents that named his home. Casting himself into the funnel he had created, Xander propelled himself far from this place, his hunt become more desperate.