[ open ] fall / winter catch-all

[karaksys]

Who: daemon targaryen + you!
When: throughout october - december
Where: various places! mostly the free cities + nocwich
What: a catch-all for anything that doesn't have a home elsewhere
Warnings: general warnings for a game of thrones/house of the dragon character, otherwise noted in tags!

Comments

[karaksys]

(( ooc: i've compiled some visual references to hopefully make the descriptions easier to understand lol because wtf is scale in this canon (see: everything is HUGE) ))

[ It doesn't take long before the environment changes more dramatically, drawing a curious person further in if one follows along the wall to move through a low, narrow tunnel.

The magic here has thoroughly compensated for the fact that the side of a volcanic mountain has simply appeared where there had never been one before, carving down into the earth instead of building up. However, it's clear enough that what used to be flatter land nearby has also been uplifted somewhat, which explains the visible outcroppings further back.

Below, thick clouds of steam billowing from cracks in the dark stone create a soft blanket of fog that obscures the view, making it difficult to gauge precisely how high it is. The haze reddens the sunlight that filters through. A sliver of sea exists somewhere below, judging from the sound of the tide, which is muffled by wind and cloud. It's safe to say one could keep going without fear of invading anyone's privacy.

The path continues along rough steps cut directly into the mountain's face, descending into the gaping maw of a large cavern. Nothing but time, wind, and rain had hollowed out the opening, but within, the first human elements since the steps emerged at last. The sunlight spilling in illuminates ancient stone architecture, and numerous torches flicker in the massive space where the sunlight cannot reach — tiny pinpoints of light in the dark. It's reasonable to assume much of this extends well below other Domains, taking advantage of the unused space without disturbing the surface it's free real estate.

This place smells of fire and brimstone. It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair and hot breath mixing with the salt air — like something lives here, the same way an occupied stable smells of living horses even without a single animal in sight.

The centrepiece is an enormous stone plinth that juts into the cavern's middle and rises well off the floor. Below it are several platforms arranged like steps, and an observant eye can spot the claw marks marring the stone even at a distance.

No one could be blamed for wanting to explore, given the place's natural beauty. There is nothing to indicate visitors are unwelcome other than the space itself, given that most people wouldn't dare wander inside the real caves running throughout the Dragonmont, considering who and what usually makes their home there. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[The landscape feels so natural until the outcroppings make themselves known, accented by the steam. Alucard does not mind a good foggy Horizon space, he'd be the worst sort of hypocrite if he acted otherwise, but there's a different patina here. His is a part of the weather. This is part of the geology, or the earth or....

the ground, so it seems, as he carefully walks along towards the steps that lead to the mountain itself. Down being the source makes sense, and he pauses to recall how many other Summoned have decided to include that particular direction in their Domain. Not many spring to mind, and he pauses as he looks downward into it.

The pull of politeness versus genuine curiosity of what the space might look like fight for a few moments. Curiosity wins, but Alucard is careful as he moves downward. Not because the smell is strong (it is) but because down means that escape is harder. Even if he can be bats. (Hell, the bats would feel at home in a cave.)

So downward further and further he moves, careful to be feather light in his footsteps and not to pause at any given sight too much.

Well, until he gets into the cavern's middle. The claw marks? Those have his attention. They're deep and they're huge. Only a large creature could create something like that.

If he's worried about disturbing any of those creatures, Alucard doesn't bother to show it. He takes advantage of the deeply stupid ability that vampires and dhampirs alike have to float and goes to look at them up close and personal. Now he'll linger. Now he'll place his fingers over the gouges to examine how deep they'll go.

Now he'll--

--turn. There's noise coming that isn't from him.]

he probably hoped someone would wander in like this tbh lmao

[karaksys]

[ The gouges have considerable detail for such a seemingly trivial thing compared to the rest of this place. Deep, old grooves worn down by use and smaller, newer scrapes and scratches layered over time. Some were made with smaller claws, and others were so large that it's easy to understand why the platform was raised to such a height. These stones have seen centuries of use, and the entire history of the Targaryen dragonlords in Westeros is engraved upon them by the great beasts themselves.

The magic replicates Daemon's memories better than he could ever hope to describe consciously, but it's hard to replicate something that doesn't exist. It stands to reason that he must've climbed up here at some point to look at them himself, along with his attention to everything else in this place, so perhaps it's a bit revealing in that case. Everyone who said that Daemon never cared for the histories had failed to consider that an alternative source might've interested him more than books.

The noise is a sudden, howling gust of wind that makes every torch jump and flicker wildly. It comes from the opposite end of the cavern from where Alucard had entered, and a sizeable moving shape blots out the sun that had been shining only a moment ago.

The wind dies down soon enough, leaving it quiet enough to hear what's moving through the tunnel with the sound of leathery wings and hard scales rasping against the rock. Judging by the noise and the oddly shrill vocalisations echoing off the stone, there probably isn't enough time to make it back outside again, but at least enough to choose to be anywhere else but underfoot. ]

Need for dramatics recognizes and respects need for dramatics

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard feels the movement of the shape before he turns to see it. The gouges are fascinating, they have patina to him, but he is not so distracted that he can't recognize when something large is behind him.

The nature of the something is what Alucard has to debate before he turns around. Speed of movement is essential in dealing with large creatures, and for the time being, he turns slowly, letting the wind gust blow him back some.

It's enough time to clock the vocalizations and how quickly they draw closer.

Right.

A burst of bats replace where Alucard was moments ago, and they head up for the cavern, ready to roost if need be.]

[karaksys]

[ As Caraxes emerges fully into the cavern, the dragon's movements are reminiscent of a serpent one moment and something like a stick insect the next, moving with greater speed than his odd proportions might suggest.

With a snarl, Caraxes' great horned head rears back on a long, sinewy neck as pale puffs of smoke curl between the dragon's teeth. Large golden eyes observe the fluttering of the bats, their slitted pupils expanding to make the most of the dim light. ]

It would seem magic bats cannot resist their nature any more than the real thing.

[ Daemon's voice rings out loud and clear as he leans forward in the saddle atop the dragon's back, arms folded with a smug smile on his lips. He looks at ease in his armour, though the dark metal is far newer and more extravagant than the last time he'd worn it for real. It's not the same armour in which he'd gone to war, but something uniquely fit for a king. This place tells on him in that way, too, but he's not exactly objecting either — he's the rightful heir, after all.

His personal crest — the three-headed Targaryen dragon bearing golden spikes and breathing golden fire — is worked on his breastplate in rubies and gold, while his heavy cloth-of-gold cloak bears the Arcana symbol of the Tower as a repeating pattern in red thread. Oddly, a few symbols stand out from the rest because they're green, although it's clear they aren't meant to be a part of the pattern. They almost seem to move with the fabric, always staying just out of Daemon's line of sight. Understanding the Arcana doesn't remove its prior associations, and he often worries about what schemes his enemies are plotting in his absence.

Finally, Aegon I's crown sits heavily on his brow, exactly where Daemon believes it should be. It's not the crown of Jaehaerys the Conciliator that his brother wears, but the Conqueror's iron crown — a strong crown for the stronger man.

Daemon steps onto the platform with ease once Caraxes stands near enough beside it, his left hand finding its familiar place on the pommel of his sword as he looks up into the gloom above him towards wherever the bats had gone. ]

How does it work, anyway? One man, many bats? What happens if you lose one?

[cryptsleeper]

[Daemon is not wrong in seeing the great beast he sits upon as magnetic. Alucard, even as bats, can't help but stare at the thing. It is massive. It is wholly new to his eyes. It is awe-inspiring in the most true sense of the term, and the fact it seems to not mind having a rider goes in some small way to explaining a lot of Daemon's attitude. One is almost entitled to be certain levels of haughty if they can calmly control a great creature such as this.

The bats remain bats until Daemon is on the platform. Then they take flight again, swirling and squeaking until Alucard is standing across from the man, but never looking at him. Somehow, he suspects surprise, a person! is not a great idea to be pulling around a dragon. Doing it twice is probably all he should do for now, unless there's a real reason to escape. Even then, it is probably simpler to return to the world by escaping the meditative state required to get here than exiting the cave system.

Perhaps the most telling part of Alucard's entire appearance is that he hasn't changed it from what Daemon saw in the Free Cities. Tunic, trousers, boots. The only accent is a dark, detailed coat that the Free Cities makes pointless with warmth.]

It is a matter of mass conversion. And if I did know what happened if I lost one, do you think I'd share that information? [He does know, of course. He and Geralt got very drunk, figured out the mass conversion, and scared poor Jaskier by having a swarm of bats in the house. One got stuck, and in that moment, Alucard as a person was missing a small body party.]

Your friend inspires an instant attraction. As does the landscape.