Welcome to Gaia! ::

He always forgot how cold it was here. He had lived here for a few years and enjoyed it more than most could. Few outside of the Fairhair could deal with Jorsul's harsh climate, especially since they liked to build on the snow to leave the grasslands - which were somehow significantly warmer regardless of the distance between the snow - untouched. Mer were more resistant to the harsh climate of Uppsala than most, and yet he could still feel himself shuddering sometimes as the wind chill washed against his face. "So cold, so cold," he repeated over and over. The Fairhairs looked at him and giggled as he passed by. He lived in a small town outside of the city walls known as Vesterlund, and most of the people in the neighborhood knew him and liked him. He was popular with the children.

Honestly, aside from the idyllic streets of Kusana and the refreshing warmth of Los Anthos' great ocean, he could very easily say that this land was his favorite to dwell in. The rolling plains and the flowers that dwelled among them were a jewel within a decrepit wasteland; compared to central Nocturne, this land was truly beautiful, while not being quite as built up as Valle. Hadrian loved natural beauty over the industrial spires and machinery of the post-modern world. It was why he favored Kusana City so much, and remained a staunch opposition to the industrial reforms.

"Grasslands, Grasslands," he whispered under his breath, and went for the shining ray of warmth that was just south of his home. His dragon flew over, and he lept at insane speeds like Dragoons often did, following his beast into the warmth. It felt like the moment he crossed from Uppsala's icy currents to the green grass, he was surrounded in euphoric relaxation. He exhaled and calmed himself. "Alright," he whispered under his breath. He looked around for a while and held a conch to his ear, the sounds of all things for kilometers around resounding in his mind, Hadrian capable of distinguishing them from one another. Nearest to him, he could hear a heartbeat. He turned his head left, and there he saw its origins: a man sitting against the grassy knoll, eyes closed as he presided over the plains below. Hadrian climbed up the small hill and sat beside him, though he didn't say a word, he closed his eyes as well and relaxed as the wind blew against his face.

The man noticed him, he could tell that. It didn't take long before a smirk grew on his face, and soon after his lips opened to speak. Most people would rather kill me than sit by me, he said. Hadrian cocked a grin in response, and replied with, "Most people in Nocturne do terrible things. It's why no one likes you guys," he laughed lightly. "But I am not from Nocturne. I am a Mer. You're probably of demon's blood, right? Don't worry. We tail flippers have no beef with you." Especially not considering they'd been led by a Demon for the past seven hundred years. People like this guy, whoever he was, were not unseen in the depths below, though they were uncommon. He didn't need this guy to trust him though. He just wanted to observe the natural beauty and figured it would be best with a viewing partner. He'd been completely isolated from others during the journey here after all, riding on the back of Machaius through hundreds if not thousands of miles.

He'd grown deprived, of socialization, of the fun and the smiles that came from making others laugh and the jokes they made in return. He really did miss the days where he wasn't always just out hunting in the wilds with his dragon, but traveling in groups across the wide landscape of this beautiful world. "You don't mind if I sit here, right?" he asked. "I promise I don't smell bad."

It was actually a relief to hear that he didn't care all that much about Nocturne. Honestly, Hadrian kind of felt like Nocturne had been a blight on the world for way too long. That was why it was a relief to listen to the Fairhairs of Jorsul and have them speak of how they cared not for the allegiance of Nocturne, but rather for the protection of their own people. He wondered who really did care about preserving the Kingdom at this point. It was all held together by Kala and her demons, but she had begun to fade and they were dying left and right. Would it survive the collapse of the hierarchies that had existed until now?

"That's a good way to live," Hadrian replied. Though he wasn't sure who the 'one who had use for it' was. Alistair? Adriel? Lilith? Those were the three names that resounded throughout the country, but perhaps it was too high of an expectation to believe that this man had contact with one of them. The whole 'shed this form and turn into a big monster' thing caught his interest. That meant that this guy was one of those . . . Dreadnought people. The weird ones with the nasty flesh caracasses and the big bravado transformations. He'd always been at least slightly terrified of them, just judging from the lore and the stories, but being here right now he thought to himself, why be so afraid?. He just had to remember that he too had some astounding abilities that others would be terrified of. "I have a friend that follows me that is more than just a few stories tall," he said. The man put his fingers into his lips as if whistling, though no noise was made. Shortly after, a resounding roar could be heard in the distance, though no figure appeared. Judging by the sound, though? The beast was massive.

"So it's fine." He smirked, then parted his lips slightly to breathe. He looked to Damian in the eye and shared a little bit of the wisdom he'd gained in his travels and his studies. "This is the most important lesson that Nocturne taught me: power balances power. Instead of everyone else being so afraid of the demons and cowering in their presence . . . and hiding behind walls built by the Nephilim and the Valkyries to protect them from the outer evil, people should learn to be strong and be capable of confronting the evil themselves. Then, they will no longer have to live in fear." He learned this lesson when he saw how humans lived in Nocturne. He always expected them to be bullied, abused and cowering. Instead, it was a human who stood at the top of one of Nocturne's largest crime syndicates, one of the most powerful mechanists in the North.

He looked into the man's eyes and witnessed a sort of melancholy as he spoke of this 'winged friend'. If the man was correctly assuming here, then he was assuming Hadrian was a Dragoon. Did that mean that this man, too, was one such soldier in the years past? He couldn't say he was all too surprised by that - Dreadnoughts didn't really age like others did, so for all Hadrian knew, he could have been a dragon trainer like a hundred years ago. He was fairly new and inexperienced compared to some of the seasoned beast tamers. "I see," he said. He listened to the rest the man had to say, and from his words confirmed that he must have been a Dragoon who had lost his companion. That was saddening. Hadrian nodded. "I found Machaius in a cave in the beaches of Kevai. He is an Auruch-Dektar dragon, you know 'em? They're the long, serpentine ones who fly by riding along air moisture. They're some of the most uncommon dragons alive, and thanks to their habit of hoarding extremely valuable materials, they're becoming more and more rare as hunters kill them to obtain their material wealth. I found Machaius as just an egg, hidden behind a wall covered by seaweed, his mother dead atop a salvaged horde of rare coral. That was when I knew: I would always protect him." He smiled as he said that, returning the smile that Damian had given to him.

It was always a positive thing to talk about his past with his dearest friend, even though the context was a dying race of beautiful dragons with sincere hearts. The Auruch-Dektar were the most loyal beasts he'd ever known, more faithful than a hound and more protective of their pack leader.

"I apologize for your loss. I'm sure she was a beautiful sight," he said. There wasn't more he could add, though he was already imagining Damian - who honestly was sort of intimidating in appearance - riding a dragon, who also tended to be very intimidating. Must've been a scary sight.

As for the good and evil conversation, well, he had a conflict of words. He agreed and he disagreed. He didn't think that just because you were a Valkyrie you were automatically good. But... he also couldn't remember the last time he'd met a Valkyrie who was seriously sinful. One could say morals were subjective, but he did believe some morals were objective. For example, not killing innocents was objectively the right thing to do, morally. Things like this spun in his head as he tried to find a common ground with Damian. "Well... I agree with you, mostly. But, you can't deny the likelihood, right? You're a dreadnought... and you're a good dreadnought. I think. I feel like I can just tell from the way you talk that you're probably a good person, even if not always. But most dreadnought aren't good people. It has nothing to do with the fact that they're dreadnoughts. I think it has a lot to do with the sort of upbringing they have. Nocturne teaches everyone to kill, betray, torture, maim... all of these horrible things. It's because Nocturne is run by the ideals of Kala, who taught demons to be like her. But demons don't have to be bad. I mean, just look at Emperor West, right? He's a demon... who's supported by angels. Who leads Fraxon, a place people call the 'Holy Empire'. He's proof that demons aren't inherently bad. Nocturne makes them bad. Which is why..." He sighed. It was so controversial to talk about this, and so dangerous. But he didn't fear the danger of his words. People like him, who were brave and carried power, needed to be the ones to spread the winds of change.

"Nocturne needs to become... something else. Something really different than what it is right now. Otherwise..." he frowned. "Nocturne will be eradicated. Don't you feel like it's coming to that? For a long time, Nocturne had an ally in Los Anthos; my people. But now, Los Anthos is allies with Fraxen. Fraxen owns everything. And the angels... want to destroy you guys. The world thinks you guys, all demons, are evil. You need to show them a different side of yourself, or you'll go extinct." He had rambled on so much. Hadrian wasn't even good with words, but he had a lot of passion when it came to these things. He didn't want the Lumirians to die out. While many of them were scary and terrible, many of them were good people to talk to, like this man. He didn't even know his name, but he felt open to talk to him. That was good. He only hoped he didn't get offended by the words he'd just spewed. Hadrian sometimes felt like he was far too presumptive. He just wanted everyone to get along, which was way too often a possibility that existed outside of this world.

He shrugged. "I haven't known many Dreadnoughts, because there aren't many Dreadnoughts. But the ones I have known, have been... well, not very nice." He confessed. He honestly had to say the Fairhairs were probably the nicest of the races of Nocturne, even though they too had their penchant for blood and carnage - especially the older ones. Dreadnoughts, vampires, Diabolos, they were some of the worst. They sat closest to demonhood in mind and body. That was what made them the easiest to corrupt.

As for whether or not Damian was good, he admitted he wasn't by the typical standard. But Hadrian didn't quite fall into the typical standard. The typical wasn't the objective standard. "You misunderstand my meaning," he said. "Good is subjective. Nocturne thinks good is one thing, Fraxon another thing, and Los Anthos another thing. I say I'm good, because I am from my own subjective standard. I'm 'good' even though I've slaughtered children before for my ideals. It was okay to me, justified to me, because they were children who would eventually go on to wreak havoc as adults. They were vampire children." Although rare, biological vampire children did exist. They lived normally and almost innocently until they were older, and then the horrific tendencies set in.

"I say I'm good because I don't act dishonorably. My way of fighting involves melting people alive with corrosive acid that covers the air - it's one of the most horrific deaths you can possibly encounter. But I give people a chance, spare them from that awful death. I learn what they believe in before I determine whether it's justified to kill them or not. I am who and what I am too, and I kill ruthlessly for my ideals. But you know what? That's fine. You can go to the afterlife with a clear conscience living as I have. The difference between me and 'bad' people is that I don't thrive on cruelty or set cruelty itself as one of my aims or deciding factors in my actions. If you do, then I re-asses my judgment of you." He frowned. The conversation had taken something of an unpleasant turn, to be sure.

"As for the chaos and the changing world, I think you're wrong. The Empires of today may be falling apart, but that doesn't mean that demons will thrive. We have all been living in a world of chaos since the beginning, my friend. I was born to a father and mother who were ruthlessly hunted across the ocean floor by beasts of the sea, from sharks to titanic turtles the size of a city. We fled for years to Aramil, only to be discriminated against and pressured to leave. I am only one of millions born into a life of suffering, unfairness and poverty. We have never had days of peace." The man stood up, and from the air came water that formed a sharp spear in his hand. From the distance, a dragon abyssal in size rode through the skies and roared to proclaim its entry. Hadrian pointed his spear at Damian. "I'll prove to you that we're ready for you. My name is Hadrian Conchor, and I challenge you to a duel."

Hadrian was swift - monstrously so. As soon as the aura of pain came from the Dreadnought, he immediately made an effort to avoid it. He used Bestial Leap to catapult himself to the direction of his dragon, avoiding the axe as well as the vast majority of the pain aura. He did not know precisely what this strange ability was that afflicted him, but he figured it was likely demonic in nature; he would avoid it. As he lept towards Machaius, the dragon angled himself so that Hadrian would land perfectly on his back. The Mer then tossed a Trident at the ground below, one that was ethereal and could only be passed through. Quickly, water surged in from the ground below and from lakes, rivers and even the ocean near the plains. The water level rose by two feet.

The dragon, Machaius, steered exceptionally quickly with Hadrian firmly bound to his back. The Mer then created a javelin of water using his manipulation, tossing it with his offhand at high speeds at the Dreadnought. He'd see how the man reacted before he did anything extreme. His dragon merely skirted through the skies, encircling from above as the Mer continued to pull water from the moisture in the air and created 150 gallons of water that resembled Emerald in durability. This water was his to manipulate freely, and it was both sharp and deadly.

The man didn't do anything. He deflected Hadrian's spear, and then . . . watched. Waited. The Mer responded with a grin. "Afraid you'll miss?" He asked. The water level rose by two feet on the bottom of the plains, now beginning to majorly flood things down there, though the fact that the plains were isolated by the slopes going downward meant that Uppsala and essentially everywhere surrounding this area was not under any danger of being flooded. Now, however, was time for something of much greater risk than the water swelling at the bottom of the knolls. The dragon opened its maw slightly, a breath of misty moisture letting out and the strange air spreading all across the field, going for where Damian was and then crawling down the slope to sit atop the water below. The area in which the mist was spread was massive; Damian wouldn't be able to see anywhere that wasn't being affected by it; even Hadrian and his dragon were partially engulfed.

The Mer then used his talent in coordinating with Machaius to manually adjust the mist. Within mere instants, the mist would begin corroding everything rapidly. The very hill Damian was standing on would begin to burn away like nothing. Even with his durability, his flesh would soon be razed and he would die if actions were not taken to protect himself. Hadrian hoped he did not die, in actuality, and yet for this fight to matter anything he had to give it his best shot. The mist continued to expand, with the Mer manipulating the pH levels around him to not harm himself or his beast.