Magic roared across his senses.  Not the usual whispers and whines of power called by the strong among the humans--no, this was a scream of power fit to tear the heavens asunder, shockwaves from its calling reverberating along the flows of magic in the world.  No human could have summoned such power--and with that power, echoes of emotion: terror for the self and another, a heavy grief deeper than the seas, and fury so white-hot even the ghost of its passage through his mind burned like the sun itself come down to the earth.

He stirred, his mind drifting towards waking, the dust and dirt of decades disturbed at his movement.  Long indeed had it been since he’d felt any reason to do more than sleep the eons away, his dreams seeking after those who had long before gone to where his soul could not follow.

Another surge of Power skittering along the edges of his awareness, stronger than before and overflowing with the intent of the one who summoned it--death, destruction, fire and wind and the crackle of lightning searing through all those who stood before it.

He opened his eyes.  Perhaps it was time to venture into the world once more, if only to see what sort of kin--such as still existed in this age, so far removed from his own--wielded power with such wrathful intent.

---

“No--!”

The shout, along with the rumble of the war-machines and the clamor of armor faded out for a moment, sensation replaced by an odd numbness and a pressure somewhere in the vicinity of her left shoulder.  Staggering back, her legs gave way as a sharp, squirming pain began to slip through her veins, digging towards her heart to better push its way into every bit of her flesh.  Her body stumbled into another, bright spots of warmth radiating against her where a chest pressed and where an arm wrapped, stark contrast to the freezing chill already creeping slowly on the tail of the pain.

Ah.  Tox rounds.

Just enough to suppress magic, just enough to kill the victim… Slowly.  Time enough to medicate later--if they decided to take their target alive.  And, really, dying over the next hour or two in agony beyond anything she could imagine?  Sounded like a damn good time compared to that fate.

Sound came back in full force as her initial shock wore off, but words still lacked meaning--the pain was making it hard to grasp what sounds formed which words.  Somewhere beneath her cheek thunder rumbled, more felt than heard.  Her head fell limply back, the effort to keep it upright pushing the nerves in her muscles to frayed threads.  She forced her eyes to focus, wondering if there were hallucinogenic effects in the poisons she could feel soaking into her organs.

Lips pulled back in a hate-filled snarl revealed small, sharp fangs in the mouth of the young man holding her to his chest.

Mods gone wrong, maybe?

She felt the thunder building beneath her cheek, volume and intensity rising until it pushed its way from the throat above her in an inhuman roar.  There were no words to this battle cry, only raw fury and grief.

And where the sound echoed from the armored forms before them, sparks chained body to body in a blinding arc of death.

The reverberation of his wrath drowned all else out, and on its heels the howl of the rising gale stirring from the ground beneath them.  Flames danced within the winds and forced those who would step over the bodies of their fallen comrades to fall back.  And with the rising of the winds summoned in his rage, tearing at their clothes, his hood wrenched back.

His hair whipped around him, and where cupped flesh should rest was revealed as a strange smoothness.

The cap atop his head shifted, and in the claws of the air it finally tore free.

Two pointed, furred ears pressed flat against his skull in rage.

Oh.

He was beastkin.

---

The humans retreated, the war-machines moving forwards to take their places, carelessly crushing the fallen beneath wheel and tread.

The wind ripped at the machines, smaller ones falling to their sides but the larger too heavy, too sturdy to be given pause by the gale around them.  Flames sputtered out upon metal, the wards protecting those within the larger of the machines.  The smaller, being automated, had nothing for the fire to threaten at all.

Grounding spells stopped the arcing death from finding a path along the metal to the delicate workings within.

They advanced, slowly, their cornered prey able to do little more than howl in rage and grief and exhaust itself as it summoned more and more power to lash ineffectually at their bulk.

The first of the machines opened fire.

And the world exploded around them.

Burning heat erupted from the sky above, so hot that it frayed the fabric of the world itself--colors not meant to be seen by mortal eyes danced within a whirling void, and a shadow so dark it burned with an impossible light of its own formed within the heart of the vortex.  Inhumanly large, a monstrous shape curled into a loose ball.

And then, it Woke.

The vortex burst open, the beast within unfurling into a vision from a nightmare: bipedal, with a muscular build.  Scales covered its form, head to heavy tail, becoming finer along the head and face where fur erupted into an untamed mane that floated curiously still despite the screeching winds.  Feathery wings of an incomprehensible span stretched from the back.  A mid-length muzzle stretched from the skull which housed eyes that watched the scene below dispassionately, the lips peeling slowly back to reveal fangs large and sharp enough to pierce a man straight through.

It lifted a single hand, and curled the fingers until only one, topped by a wicked talon, was left pointing directly at the army below.

Thunder boomed from its chest, its voice deafening the mortals below.

“Begone.”

A ripple spread outward from the foremost of the war-machines, spiraling into tendrils that wove their way through each of the armed soldiers and their machines.  Metal rusted over, the plants beneath them growing upwards rapidly to reclaim their husks, time passing through decades in the span of seconds.

The fleshy force of the army fared differently, though no better.  They seemed to grow fuzzy, indistinct, confusion and terror etching themselves into their faces for a moment before they simply unraveled, unworked from existence by a power so great they could not even begin to comprehend it.

---

Turning his gaze to the hunted ones, the only two beings left, he studied them in silence.  When flames erupted around him, summoned by the kin below, he merely breathed them aside and overwhelmed the power of the beastling.

Strong, even for kin.  I had thought any of such ability long extinct.

He allowed the power holding him in place to fade, and descended to the ground.  Dwarfing the two mortals staring up at him with terrified awe on their faces, he knelt before them to better see who had called such power as had awakened him.

One kin, and one human--the human dying of some sort of magical poison slowly destroying her body from within.  Blood upon the shoulder showed the way such a cruel thing entered her.  She would last another hour, perhaps, but it would not be a pleasant death.

The kin, now, he had power--but was exhausted by what he had thrown at those who would have captured them.  Were he rested, perhaps he could even save his companion.  But now there was little enough he could do, even to easing her passing.

“Why did they seek to capture you?”

The answer would decide their fate.

His eyes narrowed, his power probing at them and finding truth behind the words of the kin: sought for the sake of their power, that they may be used as weapons to subjugate others in turn.

So.  Even now such empires live on.  It is not enough that my kind were driven to extinction by their greed, they seek to prey upon our descendants and upon their fellow humans.

That would not do.

He reached one talon forwards, flinging his power in a binding net around the pair to prevent their movements.  The tip of the curved claw stopped above the wound in the woman’s shoulder, a soft glow gathering about it before dripping into the hole, power chasing the poison through her system and purging it.  He released the pair and withdrew his hand as she trembled and gasped, the wound itself closing as the last of her pain was brushed aside.

“None will disturb us unless I so will it.  You will rest, little ones, and then you will tell me of this world you have awakened me to.  I have slumbered for far too long.”

It was not a suggestion.  He watched Sleep overcome them, his power forcing them down beyond the threshold of dream and nightmare alike into the depths of the healing, restorative slumber they both needed so gravely.

Passable hunter, does well enough to feed himself and sometimes make a little selling parts he doesn’t need or trading them to others for things he does

Is decent at mending his clothes but not great at making them from scratch, but he’s getting better slowly

Is generally a solid all around handyman who can figure out his way around to basic repairs on a lot of different things ranging from basic technology (both normal and MaTech--technology that’s hybridized with magic) to furniture to some home repairs, etc.

Can cook pretty well but only cooks for himself, mostly because he has specific taste and texture requirements and it’s a pain trying to meet those for others as well

Pretty good with hand-to-hand combat, can use a bow for hunting (not great in combat) and can use a sword or a knife to fight if he needs to without being a big liability (better with the knife than the sword, tbh)

As far as he lets on he’s passable at low-level healing magic, healing up minor scrapes, cuts, bruises, burns, bumps, etc.  Can help stabilize somebody who needs more advanced treatment.

Same with combat magic for both offense and defense.  Can do very low-level stuff as far as anybody knows, but not somebody you want to rely on for magical support

(He’s actually phenomenal since he’s beastkin but since that being known would get him killed at best and at worst abducted by the military to be forced into being a living weapon of war nobody is allowed to know that)

Is weirdly skilled at keeping his hat on in combat, like, amazingly nobody knows how he does it.  (Magic, but he won’t tell anybody that, for the above reason)

Can’t sing to save his life, sounds like a cat being strangled lol

Decent at drawing, a fair mapmaker and has a good sense of direction

Writes a decent hand, mostly used to keep notes for himself.

Very smart when it comes to things like codes, uses several ciphers of his own invention in his notes for more sensitive things

Decent strategist, not so much in a setting like a large-scale battle but is pretty solid at using the environment to his advantage and scoping things out for plans of attack before he strikes.  Can adapt this to small-scale combat involving a handful of units, but very much tries to downplay that because he wants absolutely minimal risk of anybody trying to get him involved in military stuff

Very much loves reading, both fiction and nonfiction.  Can spout a ton of useless facts about a huge variety of topics back without warning because he just likes to learn.

Very skilled medically in terms of more mundane treatment such as caring for wounds, creating medicines and medicinal wound dressings, has a lot of lore about plant, mineral, and animal parts that can be used medicinally and the best ways to obtain, prepare, and store them to maximize their use.  Can do stitches, set broken bones, and knows enough to assist in minor to moderate surgery and could manage a very minor surgical procedure on his own which is useful in combat for removing things like broken off arrow shafts and closing up the wounds and such

Knows a decent bit about gardening as well since it’s useful for growing medicinal plants and such, as well as some husbandry for various domestic animals