by Herald_of_Fate on Fri Feb 24, 2012 2:04 am
"Each drop of moisture, be it of the storm-grey sea to the thundering rain, is our brother. They show us how to live, to flow over, under, and around life's obstacles and only when warranted, to crash upon our enemies like the tireless waves. I will strive to be like water in all my doings.." he recited, his colorless eyes closed in meditation as he sat cross-legged, floating on the river's surface, his shark leather hooded cloak shrouding his face. His lithe figure slowly unfolded from its seated posture, his 5'9" form framed with wiry muscles, clad in a loose-fitting robe of midnight blue. Slyail blinked into the fading afternoon sun, then at his current surroundings, finding them entirely unfamiliar. He'd been the first to leave the Deep Kingdom, fathoms beneath the seas in nearly half a century, barely even remembered the navigation lessons he'd taken in the Great School, where all merrow mages came to master aquamancy and shapeshifting. It had been there that the prodigy had discovered a gift rare for any mage: natural chronomancy, a strange and inexplicable ability to slow, stop, advance, or rewind the flow of time. While Slyail's powers only allowed him to affect a time of an hour at a time, it placed him among the most powerful of the Merrow's Tides, the elite mages of the Water elf race. They were collectively of near human proportion, clawed hands, and webbed feet and colorless eyes. Elaborate and colorful fins sprouted from their backs and their skin though humanlike, ranged in color from Slyail's russet brown to vibrant orange and red. And besides, maps would not help his track what he sought today.
He'd only truly begun to 'hear' it a few hours ago, utilizing a sense few knew of the Water Elves might even be aware of. A being of immense power was near and in turmoil, its energies literally rattling the air around it. This quaking actually produced an extraordinarily high pitched sound, beyond the range capable of being sensed by all but the most sensitive of ears. The Merrow's fin, while not an ear per se, functioned like one, capable of feeling the vibration this disturbance caused for miles. To his mind, it was the equivalent of hearing a dial tone over and over in his head. The Merrow mage walked on the water's surface, a burst of high pitched clicking issuing over his shoulder. As he stepped onto the riverbed, a brief shimmering flicked through his form, his white fin retracting into his back, his pointed ears rounding, his clawed webbed feet forming toes. He turned and spoke to what seemed to be no one.
"Damn it...I can't stand it! I must find the source of all this blasted racket!!! C'mon, Alleste! Quit chasing trout and follow me. I don't want to use the collar but I will!"
A dark brown furred head with intelligent black eyes peeked up from beneath the surface, chittering angrily as it approached the shore. The head belonged to a huge otter, stretching to its full four foot length before shaking itself. Though it was one of Alleste's most familiar forms and one Slyail loved most, the constant droning had made the young mage quite irritable. Still he could not help but crack a smile. The otter muttered sullenly as it dropped a rather large rainbow trout and ran to Slyail's side, its ears lowered.
"You might want to think about shifting. I would look mad if I saw an actual otter your size and wasn't in the act of skinning it." Slyail mused to the creature. "You know, appearances and all. There could be humans about."
A half-hearted huff of protest was all the otter offered before it was no longer an otter. The otter form writhed, seeming like boiling quicksilver for a moment, expanding and twisting. Finally with a sound like tearing cloth, a sleek golden labrador stood where an otter had moments before, stretching his front legs, tongue lolling from his open mouth. Such were the familiars, bound guardian spirits give form and substance by the mage's subconscious mind. To master his power, a Merrow mage had to first master his familiar. And Alleste could occassionally be a handful, she was loyal, obedient, and gifted with powers that stemmed from Slyail's own.
Following the ringing in his ears for another hour, Slyail was shocked by the sheer size of the estate whose grounds he'd apparently stumbled upon. Merrows were largely nomadic, the few cities in the Deep Kingdom reserved mainly for trade and places of worship. A simple cave, carved into the coral bed was a typical dwelling. This place was excessive. But the drone came from within. And so towards the fortress he walked, the dog who was not a dog trotting at his heels.