Stone picks himself up with a frown. He remembers falling asleep in the upper branches of the colony tree, and not in this form either. This is not a thing he's ever seen.
His lip curls, revealing sharper teeth than your typical human. He's taller than average, well over six feet, almost approaching seven. He's barefooted, with the bottoms of his feet looking hard or almost scaled, and his skin is a colorless gray all over, even inside his mouth. Even the tongue that flicks out, lizard-like, to taste the air. He looks old, but more in a weathered than delicate sort of way, and one blue eye is clouded over as if blind.
"What Fell nonsense is this, now," he growls, and the growl makes the nearby table of broken tools and parts vibrate a little.
II. What is a "car"?
None of this is remotely familiar to Stone. He's from a fairly primitive hunting-farming society, and he's taken a trip once or twice on a flying boats, but that's the extent of his understanding of vehicles that aren't animal-drawn carts.
He circles the convoy and the collection of cars with a confused but curious expression on his craggy face. "If someone wants to explain these things to me, I'd be happy to listen," he asks the nearest groundling, which might as well be you!
III. Storm-forms
The storm hits and Stone clings to the ground with hands and feet, staring into the tornado of wind, dust, and angry birds.
Then he changes. He's not changing like any of the other Drifters, there's no pain or expanding body parts. One moment he's a gray-skinned man, then there's a blur, and then there's a faded black dragon with a fifty-foot wide wingspan crouching against the wind, claws dug deep into the earth and heavily spined tail lashing. His wings look like overlapping scales, like giant feathers, and his body looks mostly humanoid, if just much, much bigger.
And then there's a faded black dragon winging around the tornado plucking people, smaller vehicles, and birds out of the air to deposit down on the ground or bite into as if they were snacks, as appropriate.
IV. Lingering Changes
The black dragon lands when the wind dies down, and changes back into the gray-skinned man. Except his wings remain. He stares over his shoulder at them in consternation. "That's not supposed to happen," he says to nobody in particular.
Stone | Books of the Raksura | New character
Stone picks himself up with a frown. He remembers falling asleep in the upper branches of the colony tree, and not in this form either. This is not a thing he's ever seen.
His lip curls, revealing sharper teeth than your typical human. He's taller than average, well over six feet, almost approaching seven. He's barefooted, with the bottoms of his feet looking hard or almost scaled, and his skin is a colorless gray all over, even inside his mouth. Even the tongue that flicks out, lizard-like, to taste the air. He looks old, but more in a weathered than delicate sort of way, and one blue eye is clouded over as if blind.
"What Fell nonsense is this, now," he growls, and the growl makes the nearby table of broken tools and parts vibrate a little.
II. What is a "car"?
None of this is remotely familiar to Stone. He's from a fairly primitive hunting-farming society, and he's taken a trip once or twice on a flying boats, but that's the extent of his understanding of vehicles that aren't animal-drawn carts.
He circles the convoy and the collection of cars with a confused but curious expression on his craggy face. "If someone wants to explain these things to me, I'd be happy to listen," he asks the nearest groundling, which might as well be you!
III. Storm-forms
The storm hits and Stone clings to the ground with hands and feet, staring into the tornado of wind, dust, and angry birds.
Then he changes. He's not changing like any of the other Drifters, there's no pain or expanding body parts. One moment he's a gray-skinned man, then there's a blur, and then there's a faded black dragon with a fifty-foot wide wingspan crouching against the wind, claws dug deep into the earth and heavily spined tail lashing. His wings look like overlapping scales, like giant feathers, and his body looks mostly humanoid, if just much, much bigger.
And then there's a faded black dragon winging around the tornado plucking people, smaller vehicles, and birds out of the air to deposit down on the ground or bite into as if they were snacks, as appropriate.
IV. Lingering Changes
The black dragon lands when the wind dies down, and changes back into the gray-skinned man. Except his wings remain. He stares over his shoulder at them in consternation. "That's not supposed to happen," he says to nobody in particular.