#tyranastrasz

Peregrin adjusted her position a little, trying her best not to let go of the spine spike and armor scale she was holding onto. She would not find it fun to fall off right now. ‘Urgh,, he was not joking about the saddle sore jest,,’ Perry muttered to herself, though she could barely hear herself in the rushing wind.

~Little one, I am beginning to descend now, hold on tight. The isle is not too far now.~ Peregrin feels/hears? Tyran’s voice in her mind, and wraps bot her arms around the spine spike and clenches her legs against the coarse scales. Her stomach begins to float up her body while feeling the huge muscles under her begin to shift, the huge body bending to dive down towards the sea. Her body wants to pull back, to tumble and bounce along the Red Dragon body but she presses herself firmly to the spike, praying to Elune she atlea urvive this bit of the journey. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, as the sea comes barreling up towards her, but thankfully she feels Tyran pull up a few feet off the surface of the ocean. The smell of sea salt stings at her cheeks, telling Peregrin they are eerily close to the surface. She prays once more to Elune,, hoping they land in one piece.

-

With a jarring thud that shook her entire body, Peregin’s eyes snap open right as she is tumbling off the side of Tyran’s back, letting out a fairly unlady like yelp. “Ack!”

She lands on the grassy shore of the island, getting a face full of grass and sandy earth. Slowly righting herself, she spits out the intruding plant life, using the back of her hand to wipe the excess off. While she is trying to clear the rest of the smuck from her face, she hears a familiar voice call out to her. 

“Perry?? Perry is that you?” Peregrin looks up to see up on the shore by some refugee tents and a makeshift field hospital, Stella. Perry’s eyes goes wide as she shakily gets up on her feet and goes to meet up with her teary eyed friend. Stellanoctis hugs her friend tightly, crying in relief. 

“Stella! Oh Elune, are you okay dear? Thank the stars,, is your family here too?” Perry tries to ask, but as soon as she says the word family, Stella’s eyes well up with more tears, her shoulders shaking. “Oh no,, no no no Stella, oh you poor thing, I am so so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry sorry,,” Perry hugs Stella tight to her, the young druid feeling that familiar pit in the bottom of her stomach, only able to guess how horrid Stella must feel.

The duo kept holding onto each other, weeping into each other’s shoulder. They do not take note of when Khadgar walks over to where General Shandris Feathermoon and her aides were, trying to keep them from launching an attack on Tyran before he had the chance to transform back.

Peregrin manages to recover herself first, using her hands to wipe away her tears and Stella’s. “I am sorry Stella, I’m so sorry. We, sniff, we need to uhmm, we need to help others right now. Come on, come on,, up on your feet.” Peregrin was channeling some of Khadgar’s words through herself and to Stella, know it helped her numerous time when she herself was extremely low.

Stella gets back on her feet, using her sleeve to wipe off some of the tears on her face “O,okay,, but,” Stella blinks a few times as she looks over to where the giant Red Dragon was sitting patiently on the beach, “who is,, that then?”

“Oh. yeah,, him. Uhhh,,” Peregrin smiles sheepishly, fidgeting with her fingers slightly, while Tyran takes this moment to shapeshift himself. Khadgar frantically trying to calm down Lady Feathermoon and the guards, fearing the worst case scenario as the Night Elves pulled out their weapons. However,,

“Alah darnana dor, Shandris’do. It has been many years since we last spoke,,” the robed High Elf form of Tyran appeared on the beach, walking confidently towards Shandris and the group, much to the gawking of Shandris. 

“L,Lord Tyranistrasz!” Shandris rushed over to the large Dragon, while Stella more or less was in a state of confusion and mixed awe, whispering to Perry “Wait,, as in,, the first husband of,, the Life-Binder?” Perry nodded silently which made Stella go wide-eyed before, not so quietly yelling at Perry,

“You had a piggy-back ride on the King of the Red Dragons?!”

The young Night Elf looked around a little, seeing Khadgar sleeping in his bag just within arms reach. He looked so peaceful when he slept, when the idiot was not trying to shoulder the entire world on his shoulders. Perry lets herself smile, ‘the softest of all things’, that is what Khadgar calls them. The Night Elf cannot help but giggle a little as she recalls years ago how Khadgar just blurted that out the first time they met. Seeing her smile had quite the impact on the boy,, no, the man.

Perry’s silver eyes look further on, but frowns as the sleeping bag where Tyran was supposed to be. It was empty, left open to the elements. She looked about to see where the man went, slowly getting up onto her feet and making her way out of the camp, her eyes seeing the clear path the huge orc made through the undergrowth.

Perry makes her way along the trodden path, soon ending up in a small clearing that ends with the edge of a cliff. Beyond was the Great Sea, the star speckled midnight sky and the moon hanging silently overhead. Sitting near the edge of the cliff, was not an Orc however, it was not Tyran there. Perry looks about in confusion, and is about to turn back to the forest when she hears the figure speak.

“My apologies Lady Peregrin if I disturbed your sleep. I thought I had made sure my clumsy steps did not make too much noise. But since you are awake,, I am certain you have questions.” the figure extends an arm, its long clawed fingers indicating to a flat rock beside the being. Perry could see the being wore some type of robe, loose sleeves that hung low with what look like ribbons on its seam. She cannot quite tell the accent of the person, but it was clearly a man, but the deep rumble behind those words sound similair. 

The man turned his head over slightly, so an eye looks back to Perry. A eye that glowed a dim gold. Perry blinks softly as she finally feels her body move again, making her way over to the offered stone seat. “Tyran?”

Sitting this close now, and with the light from the moon and stars, Perry can see this man more clearly. He was old, in his later stages of life, lines formed upon his weathered skin, the hair on his head and the long trimmed beard was a shade of silver gray. But those long tapered eyebrows and high pointed ears made him a High Elf. ‘This guy must be ancient, maybe even older than Malfurion,, but ho-’ 

“How can that be? One of your many questions little starlight. And I would give you many answers. But perhaps we can do some more,, proper introductions, hmm?” Tyran smirks slightly, revealing a little of his pearly sharp teeth. He extends a hand over to Perry, clawed fingers outstretched with the palm upwards. 

“My name, is Tyranastrasz. The Scholarly One. Former Prime Consort to Alexstrasza, The Life-Binder. Former King of the Red Dragonflight.” Tyran bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes briefly as he did so.

Perrigrin sat stunned, not quite believing it,, but also does. All the stories Khadgar shared, the trust and respect he had for the Orc, the way he spoke, those eyes,, She snaps out of it and places her hand in the offered palm. The skin was much smoother than she expected, and so warm.

“Uhmm, Perigrin, Druid of the Claw and uuh, practicing Mage I guess? I haven’t quite got the same level of titles you have though sir, my-lord? How would I even address you?” Perry shook the much larger hand, tilting her head slightly to the side.

Tyran laughs warmly as he releases the hand “Please, I would much prefer you call me Tyran for the while we are together. And do not keep yourself down little one. I see that in the future you will make a few names for yourself, fret not.” The ancient Dragon smiles warmly, his carmine and gold robes quietly rustling as he crossed his legs.

The Tower, Last City, Earth.

Amanda Holiday was working on a jumpship's turbo arc-injector, it had been her latest project the last few days and it was going nowhere. Grumbling, she tosses her spanner into the nearby toolbox, muttering some manner of obscenities as she stormed off to her alcove.

Her assistant-frame clinks over to reorganize the contents of the tipped over toolbox, as Amanda drinks from her water flask, still muttering and trying to solve this latest conundrum, when a gentle voice spoke.

"I do hope I am not disturbing you Miss Holiday." Amanda turned round to see an Awoken Warlock, with that sharp styled hair and dimly glowing golden hues.

"Nah, you're fine Tez. Just this ship got my springs all wound up and it ain't giving way for me. Sigh,," the blonde human combs ran her stained gloves through her messy hair, leaning against the steel frame of her little shack.

"Maybe you need to take your mind off of the,, springs, and look at something else for a bit. Clear your mind, see things in a new light." Tez'sara chuckles quietly before pulling out a parcel for Amanda, bound in emerald green paper and silver ribbons.

"Happy Dawning Miss Holiday." Tez'sara grins broadly while Amanda laughs softly, taking the gift and plopping herself down onto her workstool.

"Aaaw, Tez you shouldn't have. This is adorable, thank you baby. I got nothing for you tho-"

"I think you have given me a lot over the years Miss Holiday, and you've helped me more than just fixing up my ship. You've lent your ear and your thoughts to me."

Amanda smiles tenderly, what weight on her shoulders slipping away as she opened up the gift, to reveal a set of new tools of curious design. "What in tarnation,,?"

"They adjust their heads to wrap about what you are working on, so I call them 'Morph-keys'!" Tez'sara bounces a little excitedly while Amanda looks over the tools, holding up one the keys, before having a light bulb moment.

"Wait wait a hot second,, maybe,, yes! I think you helped with my problem!" Amanda rushes back over to the jumpship and a few second later, the drive roars into life, the turbo arc-charger purring happily.

"Ha ha! It worked! Tez, I swear I could," Amanda whirls around to look for Tez'sara but found that the Warlock has gone, her smile dropping slowly, "kiss you.."

Tyran sat at the edge of the cliff, overlooking festivities below in Stormwind. The humans, the elves, the dwarves and gnomes have decorated the city with lights and baubles, great pines from Dun Morogh set up in the squares and plazas.

Winterveil was in full swing below, yet Tyran sat alone at the top of the cliff, alone. It has been months now since the war between the Alliance and Horde started in earnest, and Tyran had now left the adoptive home of the Horde. The aging dragon, in his Orc form, sighed deeply, a dense cloud of hot air billowing away.

"There you are, I was wondering where I would find you,, you always had a sweet spot for this city."

Tyran tensed up as he heard that melodious voice, and did not need to turn to see who it was approaching. The armored heels cut through the snow with ease, the flowing red shawl and cape floating behind, as the Queen of the Red Dragonflight approached Tyran from behind.

“My Queen,, I thought you did not wish to see me,,” Tyran spoke slowly, turning his head slightly away as Alexstrasza stood next to the cliff edge.

“Tyranastrasz, I required time to process my emotions and mind. I mourned your passing, I saw your blood stain those tiles and the claws of Deathwing, your corpse dragged away to be burned or butchered or worse. Decades pass, and we all mourned.Then, my beautiful daughter Elestrasza, comes home with you in tow, not truly realizing who you truly were. I,” Alexstrasza falters, having started so strong but now those emotions she thought sorted come welling up again,”I saw right away. It was you, alive, changed and scarred, but alive. I was shocked, overjoyed, furious, lost and found,,”

Tyran closes his eyes, his chin dipping to touch his chestplate, sighing deeply. Alex clenched her fists, her clawed fingers digging into her palms before she relaxed. “You came back from the dead, I had just come to accept your loss, I had found a new consort and started a new clutch,,”

“Twas not my plan to disrupt the peace you had created, My Queen.” Tyran spoke quietly, but Alex heard clearly.

“I am not your Queen, Tyranastrasz,,”

Tyran flinches, his eyes squeezing tightly as he waited for whatever was to follow those words. He expected a blow, a vicious blow of words, something. But, all he felt was those warm hands gingerly caress and trace over his jaw and cheek, contrasting to the biting chill winds whipping the mountain.

“, you are my husband, my King, my closest companion I had ever had for millennia. Always by my side, the soundest of mind, and the fiercest of warriors. There can be no true comparison for such a man as you. Queen is not sufficient enough of a word to used.”

Tyran opened his eyes, looking into the glimmering hues of the Lifebinder, and smiled wholeheartedly. As the sun begins to dip behind the mountain, lovers once separated, are reunited.

30km off the coast of New York State, United States of America, Earth.

The massive vessel slowly drifted over the soft waves of the North Atlantic, its heavy engines and drives idle. The deep red and blackened armored hull almost indistinguishable from the night sea spray, salt and ice staining the void hardened metal.

Galaxus slumbered, the great carrier resting in these short hours of the early morning on Earth. The waves on this great ocean, he had found soothing to him, and would often land here when he felt weary from the conflicts and travelling. On board, many of the gang were either resting or tinkering with their hobbies. but some could not dictract themselves.

Cometstrike tapped her talons lightly against the bulkhead door, a door that led outside onto the outer hull of Galaxus. She wanted to fly for a bit, but knew it would reveal the position of not only herself, but also of Galaxus and the gang. Given the humans latest activites and organizations,,

A blast of chilled wind hits her visor as she exits onto the outer hull, icy water getting kicked up by the crashing waves against the hull. Acitivating her mag locks in her feet, the female Autobot walked along the top of the carrier till she was half way down. As she looked up into the night sky, she could see the myriad of stars and constellations softly glowing in the vastness of space.

She hesitates again, the call for flight is strong here, the whipping winds, the clear dark skies, the thrill of evading detection. But the sight of the night stars distract her.

The golden dermis and neon azure lights glint against the dark waves and armor. Lost for the moment.

“You cannot rest, but you cannot attain excitement for risk of bringing danger to your companions.” Cometstrike whirls around with her blades drawn, the visor locking onto the source of the voice, only to see no one around. Comet looks around again, before looking down to spy an opened service duct, revealing what looks to be a speaker of sorts. Sighing softly she retracts her blades.

“Aye, do not blame yourself Galaxus, I enjoy your hospitality but I do feel sometimes confined within your hold and walkways. I want to feel some openness and freedom, to feel myself soar again, breaking the sound barrier.”

“Nothing to apologize for sister. I know these emotions deeply. Even as we speak, I wish to feel the chilled embrace of the Void, the rumble of my drives as I traverse the stars, to find new realms to explore and to feel the silent roar of combat in space.” 

“,, I recognized you, you know? When you and Earthquake offered to save Starlight. I did not say anything at the time, but I knew whom you were. You were at the Battle of Cretus Tertius, it was the first time any of the Autobots saw your kind. You and your siblings d-”

“They were not my brothers and sisters. I was awake, they were machines, forced into a war not of their own. They saw and killed, but could not get rid of Megatron’s leash. I resisted, I yanked on the chains they tried to bind me with. But the damage was done, and it would take me many years before I got the shackles removed.” Galaxus rumbled softly, the hull shuddering slightly underneath Comet’s feet, but they soon went away.

“Since then, I have fought against the shackle and chain, the rule of tyrants, and that anyone should follow their Spark in their inter-celestial flight across the sea of stars. Like you once did, long ago.” Comet snaps to look back down at the speaker system, squinting behind the visor before she feels something soft beginning to fall on her dermis.

Soft petals of snow had begun to fall down over the Atlantic, and starting to dust over the large carrier and Comet.

“,, remind me what day it is Sister?”

“On Earth, it is the 25th of their twelfth month. Why?”

A small cloud of gold light and black flames rush down the green skin’s body and armor, peeling away the guise. Heavy plate armor gives way for flowing silk robes and embroidery, thick greying braids and hair giving way to long golden locks and chest length beard. The squared and brutish jaw line gave to the sharp lines of a Highborne elf, but those golden piercing eyes remain, the pupils simply black slits, deep and hungry gaze.

Shan and Vaard seem dumbstruck for a moment, as where once a huge Orc warrior stood, was now a High Elf noble in black and red robes. A majestic being, where once a brute stood.

“So, High Arcanist Shan’H’Tra and Vindicator Vaard, does this form seem more convincing? Or would you prefer I take on something more,, scaled?” The High Elf spoke now in Draenic, and barely a hint of an accent is found in his speech. The Elf glanced down, and sees some of the Talbuk blood has lingered on his fingers. He lifts up the long talon like finger nails, and with a short sharp flick of his forked tongue, cleans the nails of the intrusive blood. Once clean, he brushes the long thick beard with his manicured fingers.

“Wha-how, but,” Vaard starts before interrupted by Shan “You are a High Elf? No,, those robes and iconography, those are of the Red Dragonflight. But, who are you? Why would you not be among your people at Wyrmrest Temple?”She immediately switches also to Draenic, her emerald eyes glaring and examining the tall noble across the fire pit.

“Because I do not desire it,, and because my Queen does not desire me to be her mate again, not yet at least. I have not made enough amends yet. And,, she is still healing from the wounds inflicted by Neltharion. As for who I am, well.” The High elf grins gently, revealing those pearly white teeth, gleaming in the fire light.

“I go by the name of Tyranastrasz, The Scholarly One, Prime Consort to the Life-Binder of Azeroth. Though, most of the world believes I am dead, killed at the hands of Deathwing at Grim Batol. The Dwarves, in their audacity, think that my skull resides in their capitol of Ironforge. Ha! The nerve,,” Tyran grumbles softly as he waves a hand, the dimming flames of the fire pit flaring up again.

Vaard gapes at Tyran, still trying to put things together in his mind. Here, in the same room as him was a Red dragon, but claiming to being probably the oldest dragon who isn't even an Aspect. Vaard recalls Senegos from Aszuna, who is millennia old, who was seemingly at the end of the life cycle of dragons, even with the aide of the mana pools and ley-lines coursing through the Broken Isles.

“Then what are you doing, masquerading as an Orc warrior?” Shan asks the obvious question hanging in the room. A Red dragon who died at the hands of corrupted orcs and Deathwing now being a part of the Horde.

“Twas not the form I chose. Twas what the Titans gave me. To humble me and teach me an important lesson. Judge not the Mortals by only a select group of individuals. Were I to judge your people as a whole, I would call you fel-addicted heathens who aide the Burning Legion in the conquest of the Stars. But you aren’t. You are a proud misplaced people who want to try and save your new, and old, homeworld.” 

“And, despite your thoughts, I do not serve the Horde. I aide those who try and better the Horde, not to turn it into the war-mongering people they once were. If Garrosh was still alive, Id be putting him on the chopping block. But I also aide, in a part, the Alliance. I curb those who would try and fan the flames of war, but I fear humans are a mortal race who enjoys stirring the pot and up-ending tables.”

Tyran grumbles gently, toying with his beard with his sharp nails, while Shan sputters and scowls at the dragon who dared call her people fel-addicted heathens. “Why you little,,” Shan looked ready to drop an Arcane Bomb on the man before Vaard speaks up.

“Wait so,, you have been living among us, and tried to help both Factions into co-operating? To what end though?”