The Clearing of Balit's Isle

(It's been awhile since I last wrote something on Osearir, though he has been starting a story arc of his own. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately? ;p) this arc is not quite as open as his father's, but I am certain there will be plenty of interaction that he will have with others as time goes on.

This story is a modification of an actual RP between Verinax and Osearir, with a few memories thrown in to let people know a bit about the character and what he is currently experiencing. More will follow in time.)



Osearir rushed into New Trismus with surprising excitement. Those who knew the hatchling generally only saw his angry silver eyes, his terse single-word sentences, and sour demeanor – to see him this excited was terribly out of character. But Osearir had found something truly amazing, exactly what he needed. He just had to share it with someone, and that someone was the only friend that Osearir had left.

Spying him, he quickly ran up to the other black hatchling, Verinax. The two had commiserated only a few weeks ago, but already the two had become fast friends, and indeed unofficial brothers. Having a life that experienced threats, Osearir’s sudden arrival did cause a reactionary turn and preparation for danger, but when Verinax recognized him, he greeted him in a small, but genuine, smile.

“Follow!” Osearir explained without explaining, in his usual taciturn manner. His head bobbed back and forth before his whole body turned, hardly able keep from running. He settled on a sort of bounding-hop, the most playful Osearir had been in years. Despite this, its levity hardly registered on the black's face. Verinax, intrigued, followed him through a series of portals, finally coming to the town of Selen.

“I've not seen this side of you before, I like it,” Verinax beamed, wide and tooth-filled.

Osearir rubbed the back of his head with a wingclaw, sporting a rather silly grin. “Well, I know it’s not too common for me. But I found something! Something wonderful! I mean, I didn’t find it, I was actually sent there, but...” he stopped rambling and grinned again at Verinax. It surprised him how easily words still came to him, even after hardly using them for the past few years. “I think I found a place that I can finally call my own.”

Verinax flicked his eyes to the various bipedal buildings residing within the area. He had come through here a short while back when he was dealing with his rites and found it a nice location. He wondered if, perhaps, Osearir might have found a lair around here. “Oh, excellent. I’d love to see it,” he said.

Osearir nodded and, unable to contain himself, bounded down the path. Before long they had passed beyond the limits of Selen, near the shore where a road twisted off to the beach south – and there lay an unexpected wonder: a bridge that spanned a huge distance across the water. Osearir led his friend down to it, placing a claw on the masonry as his mind filled with memories.

But these memories were not of the building, but his sister. He looked back to Verinax; he had become an excellent friend, and had filled the hole left when his sister apparently turned away from him. That blasted Blue Phoenix, his warden and benefactor both, had woken from his Ash and begun to teach. To his sister, he had granted books, more books than Osearir realized existed, and so she sought knowledge, and began to know others. To him, he had gifted crafting. A lot of crafting. He began sneaking away when one day, he found himself covered in slate dust and looked at his reflection in the water. He did not like the dragon he saw staring back.

Verinax tilted his head to the side as he scrutinized the design of the bridge, and its length. “I never knew such a thing was here.”

His words broke Osearir from his trance. “Neither did I - but an elder directed me here. I thought it would just be another asinine task, but… the place was amazing, Verinax.” He turns back. “There are no lairs there, but that is where I will make my home - when I am able. Come! Let’s get across here!”

The two quickly scurried across the bridge, to the far sandbar, and took the lone portal sitting upon the isle.

The new place was strangely darkened as the two arrived. A pallid mist rolled in from the sea surrounding the isle to which they had come, making it difficult to see too far beyond their snouts. Osearir took a deep breath, inhaling the choking moisture. It was so lonely, so isolated, so wonderful. The quiet of the isle was much like the one he left in his wake when he disrupted the ritual to save his monster of a father. There were no over-playful hatchlings to prod him until they bit him here, no over-blown fathers to yell at him. No one to know that he was the son of the Fallen Son.

Here, away from all others, he could at last feel safe, have something of his own – instead of the hateful gifts his father had given him. Verinax came beside him, and so Osearir turned away from his memories.

“They call this place Balit’s Isle, because some fool Gifted captain crashed and got stuck here. But I’m going to rename it! ...as soon as I come up with a good name,” he said.

“How interesting... I never knew such a place was here.” Verinax looked around the fog-choked isle in wonder. “It’s lovely. No lairs you say? Must be that secluded, though I can understand why. I’m usually very observant and I had no idea it was here; even the bridge itself!”

“It’s perfect for what I have in mind.” He sniffed the air, recognizing the smells from his previous trip. “There are plenty of deer here, for eating, and the mists are wonderful for hiding in... especially for… you know. What I have in mind.”

Verinax nodded, for he had helped Osearir come to that decision. After his sister changed, he had begun to believe in a horrible possibility: that the power within him would eventually drive him mad. It was not completely unfounded; after all, his father had gone mad with power, his mother with grief, his eldest sister with plain lunacy and his youngest he had last seen with blight in her eyes. It seemed entirely possible that when his power at last wrought itself upon his body, he would lose all sense of right and wrong and become just like the creature he despised the most: his father.

Of course, learning to control that power meant taking some precautions – hence why he had chosen such an out of the way place.

“There is one problem, though,” Osearir said.
“Problem?”

“We’re not actually alone here.” As if on cue, a half-human howl rose up from the mists, further inland. He looked towards it with some disdain. “I’d like your help, if you would. Prepare for battle - we march to where I shall make my new home.”

Verinax raised an eyeridge, pinning his attention in the direction of the howl’s source. “Mmm... lovely. Of course, I’m sure it’ll be little more than a nuisance,” he said with a grin.

Osearir grinned back. “G’rei. Let’s see if anything can stand up to us.”

When Verinax was ready, he turned to trek into the mists. The two did not have to travel far to encounter the first of them: werewolves. Clutching a femur, the dog-man rushed out of the mists and smashed his club against Verinax’s skull-covered skull. Fortunately it did not damage that prize, but it did stun him. With a few bolts of Prime, naturally darkened by the power within him, Osearir drew the creature away long enough for Verinax to recover and tear out its spine when it lunged for his friend. As it fell to the ground, the two grinned at one another, and continued their march up the road.

After a few more minor skirmishes the two climbed to a higher point on the isle, where the mists cleared away and the sun shone brightly. This place - so pristine, so ignorant of the Dark Primal that hung over Osearir’s head, his father’s hated legacy - filled him with happiness and hope. They were almost there.

“Those little ones were small fry - I want to give a particularly nasty one a sound beating though, so I can send him back into the mists and have this part of the isle to myself. Balit called him… Eyetooth, I think,” Osearir revealed. On his previous trip, the large werewolf had chased him out of his new favorite spot. Now was the time to turn the tables.

“Aaah, I was beginning to wonder if they had some sort of alpha,” Verinax said, staring down the semi-worn path.

“Indeed. And it is time a dragon became the top dog around here.” He grinned widely and then turned back to the path ahead. “Let’s go.”

Verinax agreed and the two began the winding path around the large basin of fresh water that dominated the top part of the isle. As they passed, Osearir made note of a small isle, just a small rock off the side of the island. Verinax suggested it would make a good lair someday, and Osearir certainly agreed. Of course, the werewolf had to come first, and so the two walked as stealthily as possible, coming around to the end of the path – with no sight of the wolf.

Osearir snorted. “He must have scented us coming. It looks like he’s run for it, or perhaps is just hiding... I’d call it a victory, but he needs to fear us, even when we aren’t here.” He looked around towards the falls beyond, and up the mountain towards the basin from which they poured. “Let’s split up. Shout if you find him.”

“I’ll search; do take care of yourself. I’ll be around,” Verinax said. He then raised a forepaw to tap a talon against the side of his plated head. “Mental contact works also, should you need to use it.”
Osearir smiled, testing it out; he had not used Prime communication for some time, as there was little need - or rather, no one to communicate with. The thought made him frown a bit, but he ran off towards the falls before he could say anything of it.

It was not long before Verinax shouted to him. He quickly returned, scampering up the hill to join Verinax at his side. Several rock formations lay long the basin, and Eyetooth had holed up in one of them.
“He tried to take the high ground… clever,” Osearir said. Verinax nodded. “I’m better with spells. I’ll cover you as you approach.”

The older black worked his way up into the rocks, but the werewolf seemed to have vanished. Without warning, the large white wolfman leapt out of a hole, charging Osearir. He had come around and tried to strike at the weaker of the two. Pulling back, Verinax intercepted him, tearing into his side. Osearir turned and fired spell after spell at the two, bolts of prime at the wolf, spells of healing for his friend. The wolf sliced Verinax across the face, but under the combined assault, the blood of the werewolf splattered against the rocks, and he ran away yelping wildly. The two hatchlings celebrated in their quiet ways.

“He’ll be back - but likely not for a while. He’ll think twice about harrassing me on the way there again,” Osearir said. Without asking, or saying a further word, he walked forward, placing a paw beside Verinax’s scuffed face, letting the Primewind come to it and heal it slowly. “Follow me.” Slowly, he walked down the hill as a thankful Verinax shadowed him down the hill towards the falls.

Osearir crested the hill and looked down on the multi-tiered waterfall below. As the light passed through the rising spray of the falling water, it split into a beautiful rainbow. Osearir’s tail swung back and forth with no small amount of glee.

“This - this is mine,” he said proudly.

Verinax heard the falls much sooner than they came into sight. The beauty that resided within such a remote location was astounding. It felt untouched by the quarrels that led society, “I’m... impressed.” He padded forward, mostly for the feel of the cool mists that the falling water produced. “It’s wonderful, Ose. I’m still amazed that no one else lives around here. Granted, even if they did, I’m sure we could kick them out.”

Osearir grinned at him, and moved to join him, but slipped and tumbled into the pool below. He scurried a bit to the other side, and with a bashful grin, swam back to where Verinax stood, nosing him gently.
“Thank you for coming out here, Verinax. But… even as secluded as it is, I can’t live here permanently. Not just yet, anyway…”

Verinax was happy to see Osearir playful as he was, but it faded a bit when Osearir speaks. “The blue?” he asked as he settled himself down at the bank of the small pool.

Osearir sighed and thought back on it. When Maurger had died and his Prime Matron had made herself permanently unavailable, his children had been split amongst many homes by Ausixen, who was unable to care for them. Maekrux had fallen into Ash after losing Amalteah for some reason – which confused Osearir to no end. To him, Amalteah was just the tool of his father, nothing more, the loss of which was no greater than a broken hammer or chisel. Ignorant of their history, or the shattered hopes of his unlikely benefactor, Osearir had been largely uninterested in the blue’s suffering.

Despite this Ash, Maekrux had kept Osearir and Wurunwa for himself – his sister, for her resemblance to her mother, but Osearir was kept for another reason. Maekrux feared him. At the time, Osearir believed it was only from the memories of the horrors he had experienced at his father’s hand, which he certainly had no intention of repeating. But ever since realizing the inevitable fact of his powers and the inexorable madness it surely caused, Maekrux’s fear was justifiable – his only mistake perhaps not just killing Osearir when he had the chance.

Thanks to Verinax, however, he had found not only a reason to live, but hope that he could avoid his fate. Together they had narrowed his options down to a choice: to try to seal away the powers and hope that they never surfaced, or to learn to control them before they did. The former was unlikely to work, given what had happened to Welun, and the later meant Maekrux might try to kill him – and so here he had come, at last, to Balit’s Isle.

Climbing out of the water, he shook himself off and sat beside his new-found brother. There the two talked and planned. Osearir would seek a mentor as an excuse to leave Maekrux’s purview, and here would he train in secret. They remained together for a long time, hoping for a better future, until the hour grew late. Verinax returned home, but Osearir remained on the isle a bit longer.

A few gulls hovered in the air offshore. Osearir watched them for a time, wondering at how they flew. It would be a long time now, before he ascended. He couldn’t risk going mad like the others. But now, at last, his path was clear as the water that flowed below him. Here, in this beautiful, mist-shrouded sanctuary, free from the prying eyes of dragons and phoenixes, he could put his plan into action.

He stood and lifted one of his paws to stare at his wrist. He hated, feared, and desperately hoped. This power was one legacy he could not ignore. Taking out his scalepack, he drew forth a changed obsidian mirror – his father’s, which had trapped his image for all time, staring back at him with hateful, proud eyes. He threw it to the ground. “Just watch, father, what I can do. This is not your legacy,” he said.

He placed his paw down and closed his silver eyes. Tendrils of black energy laced around his body, waving wildly into the wind as the very nature of the Prime began to distort around him.

“This power, I shall tame, as you should have been tamed. I will tear the teeth from it as I tore apart your soul. I will make this power mine!”

His eyes opened, and he reared up onto his hindlegs. His forepaws came together, and a massive black orb of dark primal energy came to his hands before being launched, far out to sea, water exploding off shore like a depth charge. He fell back to his paws, took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

“One.”

There, the hatchling worked, ignorant of the eyes that watched him in secret.