Zahhak, (Ilheod's Alt)
May 4, 2015 9:24:09 GMT -6
Post by Zahhak Al-Bahar on May 4, 2015 9:24:09 GMT -6
Name: Ghadab Zahhak Al-Bahar (Raging Serpant of the Seas)
Class:Dragon
Element: Water
Age:780
Born in:Western Isles
Appearance: Dragon Form:
Like his name sake, for a dragon he is has a very serpentine likeness to him. His neck is incredibly long, winding and extended with a flatter round head. His jaws have powerful joints to them, emphasized by coming out to the sides of his face with hinge like bone structure that forewarns a deadly power behind each snap. Rows of crimson malleable fins and a single ridge like length of firmer fin decorate his head and the back of his neck along his shoulder blades. Like most traditional dragons, he does have wings. Large white and blue membrane along the center that fades into a dark crimson near the edge. However unlike most dragons his wings near the tip have small hooks which serve to "latch" his wings to his shoulder blades. This allows them to serve as large twin rows of fins along his back that can increase his speed and control of movement underwater.
In terms of height by no means the largest of dragons. When on all fours, from feet to the top of his neck with his head bent to look down, he reaches a maximum height of sixteen meters. However he is exceedingly long, outstretched his body to tail alone being just above thirty three meters to the tip. His tail functions as a dangerous weapon in combat, able to hit from unpredictable angles and at deceptive speeds for it's size. Flexible to extremes and able to coil in abstract almost inconceivable angles while moving at alarming speeds, his body performs optimally however within the ocean. Partially free of gravities oppressive means within the crashing tides and grueling currents, in the water his swift motions are like a maelstrom in and of themselves.
Some dragons are blends of raw power, while bolstering fortress like hides. However with a body designed to collect and maintain moisture while maintain maximum efficiency inside his natural aquatic environment, his own are not so tough. Still powerful in their own right, his scales are softer than a normal dragons. His entire body adorned within small platelet layers of these softer scales, it assists with the intertwining process around objects by decreasing resistance while also assisting in oceanic travel and flight.
His entire body harbors a generally universal blend of white and blue scales. Save for spontaneous ridge segments of fin or small barbed spikes that protrude from the back of his spine or limbs he has no exceptions to this; with the aforementioned protrusions being stained a combination of crimson and darker purple. His most noticeable trait however despite these comes in the form of the colossal black teeth protruding from his upper jaw. Two monstrous twin fang like frontal teeth extend outside the reach of his lower jaw and even with closed maw still reveal themselves. Fatally sharp, these are his greatest weapon upon his body when combined with his speed, flexibility, and powerful jaws. While his body indeed looks frail compared to the stalwart armor like hides of other dragons, the deadly appeal to his body is hard to overlook.
Human Form: At a medium height of about six feet even, he doesn't impress through any towering visage of danger. Nor does he sport a bulky frame at his size, but has a very lean build honed and focused into an impressive tone. Often men are caught off guard by the immense physical power from such a thin package. With a smaller frame his body emphasizes his agility. His face is somewhat angular with very defined features complimented by an almost ever present grin or smirk. An air of smugness about him even that he doesn't seem to lose. Bright lightly shaded cerulean blue eyes show his real energetic nature. Constantly aflame, and ever searching for another challenge; they often express the real thrill he seeks when his cocky grin will not. Medium brown length bangs blend in with the rest of his somewhat plain look, bound back by a headband at the side with his center bangs slicked backwards to an almost out of place spiked style.
Around his shoulders rests a large necklace with a red plated crest upon it. Upon the smaller sides on both left and right a series of golden whorls are designed, representing the tides he calls home. It's one of the few keepsakes he had as a lingering sentiment of his parents. Within the center embedded in it rests his Dragon Stone. Small metal feather shaped ornaments dangle from it, five in total that jingle slightly when he moves. An identical metal plate rests on the back of the necklace mimicking the position of the frontal one despite no gem or stone being placed within. Typically wearing no shirt in the slightest, his upper body is adorned in scars that emphasize a life time of combat. On his upper right shoulder lingers a tattoo that was etched into his shoulder. That of a coiling dragon with jaws agape and mid snarl. This tattoo was a custom of his tribe and it coils around his shoulder, before going down his side beneath his arm.
Often he wears simple woven pants with hardened leather strapped as armor to his legs with a leather waist guard bound to him by a solid belt. A rectangular golden buckle firmly holds it in place, and beneath it lies two sashes adorned in moderately large palm sized golden bells which jingle loudly and frequently. The bells however are of slightly different size, enough so that it creates alternating and some times disorienting patterns of sound. With white bandages wrapped almost perpetually around his forearms , and red gloves on he plays the look of a brawler; albeit a small one.
Over the years he has found a personal distaste for most human weapons, preferring to damage directly with his hands when fighting in such form. Often their weapons are too bulky or slow. However occasionally he's dabbled in the weapons mounted upon knuckles or worn by weaving fingers through loops and handling them like knives. Even small knife like weapons connected by chain have provided an amusing form to the degree that he would wield it; but otherwise he is never seen sporting an actual weapon.
Personality:Fearless. Years of throwing himself into danger or combat without a second thought had instilled an almost subconscious energetic mindset towards dangerous situations. The high of combat, adrenaline flowing at full throw with the body narrowly avoiding crisp burning brands of pain from an enemies blows while pitting himself to the fullest against a strong combatant...no finer a rush. This has also given him a blood lust of sorts. Any time violence could arise, he is compelled to be present. Missing out on such conflict would simply be unthinkable.
Despite this he is not inherently a vile person. His love for battle does not transcend to brutish murderous intent where he would wantonly kill others; instead translating to an almost internal code. Only fighting those who could fight back. Not out of honor, but for his own thrill. Beating a man or woman who is unable to fight back develops no skills and teaches nothing to him of combat. It does not help refine his reflexes nor would it bring him fun. It is just that, killing without reason and something he dislikes. Always seeking to improve himself and always desiring to grow stronger he has taken to searching out for fights however. Openly challenging people by any means if he believes they could bring him a fun fight, viewing no method of provocation as beneath him.
This reckless abandon for combat and "fun" of it leaves him with little notion of honor. Honor after all, is of no use to the dead. A fools prize. The hunt of power and strength is not his sole enjoyment in life however. Over his life time, revelries has been a pleasant change of pace to a life of training and combat; occasionally even attempting to develop friendships even if his open and ruthlessly blunt manner often chases them away. Spending many years within the western Isles and their surrounding location also immersed him in the methods of pirates and their life style. Spending months upon a ship bound to sea with marauders or reavers of the sea is not foreign to him. Even if he ends up..parting ways in some form or another with them eventually.
He is also very distatched from historical records. He did not keep track of humanities milestones let alone their minor events as time passed by; less so now that his memory has grown foggy and his mind essentially acting upon instinct. This combination with his other natures leads him to a very carefree life style. Someone unbound by society being set lose once more upon the world. Unlike other dragons though, he does not care for the events of the scouring. Growing upon the seas and their law of survival he follows a rule of strength. The strong survive, and if one wishes to maintain their footing they must continue to grow strong. The dragons lost, because they could not overcome the might of the humans great weapons. Though he does long for interaction with other dragons he is likely to find few that would tolerate this mentality of his towards his own race.
Story:
"There is but one thing you must remember. The strong will always stand above the weak. "
One of the few things he recalled his father saying when he was young. That he would later learn his father, like so many other dragons died at human hands came as a surprise to him. However his father did not die in a great war, or some fantastic battle against armies in shining suits of armor. He died...or been killed because of his conflict at the sea, riddled with dozens if not almost a hundred smaller wounds all over his body by pirates. Though both ships had been destroyed, even the great draconic beast had fallen to the accumulated wounds of their weapons. His strength was just great enough to return to his home to see his wife and only son once more, though to his wounds as he took his human form.
That was all just a lingering distant memory though. His strongest memories growing up are those of him being thrown about taverns. The breaking of wooden chairs and feeling a fist clash into his jaw only to snarl and throw himself headfirst back into the body of the sod who he'd likely started a fight with. It served a purpose however. Every time he was beaten within an inch of his life. Every time he felt himself rest or recuperate; even as his mother lectured him for recklessly endangering himself he could feel the changes. Him growing stronger. After his father's death, his mother had become almost over protective of him to a fault. Where before, like her partner she had valued strength; she started to view it as a curse. Blood lust was not a trait that promoted long lives. He might have subscribed to that theory eventually too, if it had not been for a single fact that started to reiterate it's self. He started to win. Men who would beat him mercilessly over time found themselves hard pressed to gain an advantage as the young dragon grew faster. His muscles developed further and his power and speed complimented his light frame easier.
It proved his father's words. If he wanted to focus on surviving, he couldn't do it hiding away on a coast side shack like his mother was content. He had to get out and live. Truly live. A life on the seas. He was however, smart enough to know he couldn't wantonly transform around humans. Pirates were rude foul mouthed brutes, but superstitious like any other human. He knew their talk of sea monsters. Beyond just dragons, but great multi-headed serpent like beasts or great krakens. To a degree, he hoped they were more than myth so that he might pit himself against them one day. If only.
Being a water dragon, Zahhak held an affinity for the seas that humans likely could not relate to. It was symbolic to him. He remembered in his earliest years hearing tales of his people. His father's tribe and how the sea off the coast of their island was their waters. That they could call an entire section of the ocean their own, that they could enforce it with claw and fang and water. A magnificent thought. Humans however, as he started to notice did this as well. Pirates of various power claimed certain parts of the seas as their own territory and killed others for it.
Would this show him the path he wanted? The strength he desired, could he acquire it through fighting these pirates? He wouldn't know until he tried. A final visit home, to his mother first before he departed for this journey had been required. He planned to depart until he could accomplish this dream. He'd no idea how long it would take. Their conversation was long, and she surprisingly accepting. That he reminded her of his father at a younger age was why, as he would come to learn. She spoke to him at length of many things. The old customs of their people, the knowledge of their feuds and wars with humans and more locally to him the battles of their tribe. It was a long conversation, as she told him great stories of clashes upon the seas. Massive dragons twisting in violence and rage to destroy entire ships being confused for horrific maelstroms and natural disasters at sea. It was one of the few times he felt it, pride to be associated with his people.
Zahhak felt truly, that he was part of a tribe; or descendant from one. However at length, their conversation came to an end. With it, so did his stay there. His mother gifted him with an outfit and necklace at the time of his departure to store his stone; one his father had used before him. The symbols of twisting gold whorls and tides behind at the corners of it to form a maelstrom represented his tribe. It was their insignia. His entire outfit though was also that of his tribe. That of the moheet tribe. Bells looped around his waist by rope and a red sash above his belt to identify him further as one. Even among the world of dragons they had been notorious for violence and a lust for battle. An affiliation he would wear with pride, and in the back of his mind; an inkling to learn more. The world had surely forgotten them..but he would not. One of the few things he'd remember with certainty.
His first years at sea were glorious. Battles with and against pirates; even joining human pirate crews under various aliases simply to be where the combat would. The thrill of raiding ships, to fight upon stormy seas, with thunderous tides crashing against the sides of the ship while the great wooden constructs rocked back and forth; no finer a feeling.
Years went on and he saw humans around him succumb to age while he himself felt no touch of it. Life times came and went with him simply growing in strength. He made no attempt to grab land for himself, or sea as it stood, until he was certain of his power however. Humans were fickle, but they could be dangerous. Until he began to hear the same name upon the lips of many a sailor at taverns around the seas. Ceezah. A mountain of a man with a powerful Ax that he claimed gave him the strength of the seas it's self.
Seldom did he get angry by any claims a human made. That however...That was unforgivable. No human could claim right to the seas as their power. It was one of the few things he was proud of, his power to use the ocean's might as his weapon. He would challenge this Ceezah. He would find him, and kill him where he stood.
Seldom in life, even for dragons were things so simple however. Zahhak had joined up with a crew of humans looking to bring about a change in powers. He kept to himself mostly; assuming most of them would die and it be a waste to try really remembering their names. The battle that followed...was savage.
Lightning forked through the sky as the horns of the pirates ship echoed into the seas. rains hammered down upon the ship as winds brutally clashed and a storm furiously battered the seas. The ship flying Ceezah's banners approached swiftly despite this. Men upon either side of the ships decks roared at each-other while a few through ax's or loosed arrows at one another. Zahhak himself was upon one of the crows nests gazing down with a grin once again as the fight began; men attempting to board each ship. The water dragon leapt upwards with eyes aflame, bright with excitement and his voice a bellowing war cry as he descended from the nest of his ship and into the hangings of the other vessel. Hands tightly gripped one of the nets dangling low from the upper sails as he swung briefly before launching off of this too and grabbed a rope tightly wound around the center mast.
He had laughed even, as he launched from the wooden mast down directly to the deck from almost twenty five feet only to land upon one of the Pirate Lord's crew with a violent and brutal series of swift punches. Most were to the throat, even though the second one had killed the man he caught off guard. Upon the deck of the ship he was like a raging serpent, Zahhak living up to his name as he snaked from one victim to the next while brigands furiously battled around him. Each scar upon his body felt like a sign, a proof that this challenge was one he could meet. As if they burned hot like a freshly branded wound in anticipation for this furious confrontation. From above he could see him, a man carrying a colossal well curved ax blade.
He fought near the top of the deck with the man captaining the ship Zahhak had been aboard. A mountain of muscle wearing little to no armor similar to Zahhak himself. The water dragon gazed up with a furious hunger in his eyes. A challenge, the challenge, he had been looking for. With almost no regard for those he had sailed with he sped upwards, grabbing the bottom of the railing to the upper part of the deck and vaulting over it. As he ascended, the newly hewn corpse of the allied pirate captain fell to the water laden deck with a heavy yet somber thud.
Ceezah hoisted his Ax over his shoulder as he lifted a meaty arm to point at the brown haired youth that had just appeared. His voice was savage sounding as he shouted Zahhak. "Come lad, I'll split your head in two!" Chills of anticipation lingered down his spine as he prepared himself to fight this monster. No words. He wouldn't say a thing. Lightly swaying side to side and letting a bounce etch into his step Zahhak got into a more ready stance. Every muscle on edge and every sense alive as he prepared himself; eyes darting to scan each of the mans shoulders and down to his arms before back to him as a whole. The first swing came faster than he'd expected. Bobbing backwards he narrowly avoided it before swiftly extending both hands and jabbing as hard as he could. Two impacts to the man's abdomen in swift succession before Zahhak lowered his head and spin to the side. Ceezah wrenched the Ax to the side, trying to cleave him in half.
The battle was furious, and it raged on long after the rest of the pirates Zahhak had opted to assist were slain. Hollering and sneering men surrounded him, watching sneeringly as their captain battled the man. No one dared interfere, fearing the captain might strike them down. The Water Dragon continued to evade blows, but only barely. He was fast, but despite the man's overwhelming power he was dangerously good. It was only slightly a surprise then when the dragon lunged forward to strike only to feel the solid shaft of the ax crash into the side of his head. He hadn't even noticed the pirate reverse his grip of the weapon.
The blow didn't hurt too much, but it did disorient him. Enough so that the pirate was able to land a savage hook to the side of his ribs. The blow almost launched him off his feet as he slid back before smacking into the railing along the back of the upper deck. Another close fisted blow to his jaw as the man snarled violently. Arms draped over the sides, the Dragon spit blood out of his mouth as he looked up only to see Ceezah lifting up the Ax. He felt the urge to transform. To turn into his draconic self and grind the pirate beneath him into a pulp of red. Hadn't his father made a similar mistake though? Self-preservation dictated his next movement. Instinctively, Zahhak used the grip he had on the railing to swiftly pull himself as he moved upwards while also tucking his knees. While Ceezah tried to bring the Ax down the dragon kicked off of his torso. Hard. Releasing his grip of the railing he kicked off of the ship and sent himself sailing towards the water. His head burning and his vision slightly blurred from motion combined with the concussive blows he did not see the heavy wooden lower railings extending near the mid point of the ship. His head smacked against it as he fell off the back of the ship causing him to spin mid fall and crash into the tides below. All memory faded as darkness enveloped him.
When he next woke, his mind was shrouded in haze. Thoughts were difficult to grasp at. It was a sensation similar to grasping at mist. Each time he thought he'd grabbed something only to feel it slip away. He began to become more aware of his surroundings. Sounds at first. The ocean waves breaking upon surface of land. The feeling of his body being pulled upon? Rushing water around him. Sand being washed away by water beneath him as he started to lift himself up. Upon the shores of Etruria he found himself, though he knew not it at the time. Defeated, he struggled to rise as memory slowly trickled back to him. A single word left his lips. " Ceezah. " The end game. The goal.
Most might have considered this a sign to change. To try living life a different way. However..he was alive. Zahhak was by no means out of the picture and if he was strong enough to have survived he could become strong enough to beat him down. That he would too, that he would.
Class:Dragon
Element: Water
Age:780
Born in:Western Isles
Appearance: Dragon Form:
Like his name sake, for a dragon he is has a very serpentine likeness to him. His neck is incredibly long, winding and extended with a flatter round head. His jaws have powerful joints to them, emphasized by coming out to the sides of his face with hinge like bone structure that forewarns a deadly power behind each snap. Rows of crimson malleable fins and a single ridge like length of firmer fin decorate his head and the back of his neck along his shoulder blades. Like most traditional dragons, he does have wings. Large white and blue membrane along the center that fades into a dark crimson near the edge. However unlike most dragons his wings near the tip have small hooks which serve to "latch" his wings to his shoulder blades. This allows them to serve as large twin rows of fins along his back that can increase his speed and control of movement underwater.
In terms of height by no means the largest of dragons. When on all fours, from feet to the top of his neck with his head bent to look down, he reaches a maximum height of sixteen meters. However he is exceedingly long, outstretched his body to tail alone being just above thirty three meters to the tip. His tail functions as a dangerous weapon in combat, able to hit from unpredictable angles and at deceptive speeds for it's size. Flexible to extremes and able to coil in abstract almost inconceivable angles while moving at alarming speeds, his body performs optimally however within the ocean. Partially free of gravities oppressive means within the crashing tides and grueling currents, in the water his swift motions are like a maelstrom in and of themselves.
Some dragons are blends of raw power, while bolstering fortress like hides. However with a body designed to collect and maintain moisture while maintain maximum efficiency inside his natural aquatic environment, his own are not so tough. Still powerful in their own right, his scales are softer than a normal dragons. His entire body adorned within small platelet layers of these softer scales, it assists with the intertwining process around objects by decreasing resistance while also assisting in oceanic travel and flight.
His entire body harbors a generally universal blend of white and blue scales. Save for spontaneous ridge segments of fin or small barbed spikes that protrude from the back of his spine or limbs he has no exceptions to this; with the aforementioned protrusions being stained a combination of crimson and darker purple. His most noticeable trait however despite these comes in the form of the colossal black teeth protruding from his upper jaw. Two monstrous twin fang like frontal teeth extend outside the reach of his lower jaw and even with closed maw still reveal themselves. Fatally sharp, these are his greatest weapon upon his body when combined with his speed, flexibility, and powerful jaws. While his body indeed looks frail compared to the stalwart armor like hides of other dragons, the deadly appeal to his body is hard to overlook.
Human Form: At a medium height of about six feet even, he doesn't impress through any towering visage of danger. Nor does he sport a bulky frame at his size, but has a very lean build honed and focused into an impressive tone. Often men are caught off guard by the immense physical power from such a thin package. With a smaller frame his body emphasizes his agility. His face is somewhat angular with very defined features complimented by an almost ever present grin or smirk. An air of smugness about him even that he doesn't seem to lose. Bright lightly shaded cerulean blue eyes show his real energetic nature. Constantly aflame, and ever searching for another challenge; they often express the real thrill he seeks when his cocky grin will not. Medium brown length bangs blend in with the rest of his somewhat plain look, bound back by a headband at the side with his center bangs slicked backwards to an almost out of place spiked style.
Around his shoulders rests a large necklace with a red plated crest upon it. Upon the smaller sides on both left and right a series of golden whorls are designed, representing the tides he calls home. It's one of the few keepsakes he had as a lingering sentiment of his parents. Within the center embedded in it rests his Dragon Stone. Small metal feather shaped ornaments dangle from it, five in total that jingle slightly when he moves. An identical metal plate rests on the back of the necklace mimicking the position of the frontal one despite no gem or stone being placed within. Typically wearing no shirt in the slightest, his upper body is adorned in scars that emphasize a life time of combat. On his upper right shoulder lingers a tattoo that was etched into his shoulder. That of a coiling dragon with jaws agape and mid snarl. This tattoo was a custom of his tribe and it coils around his shoulder, before going down his side beneath his arm.
Often he wears simple woven pants with hardened leather strapped as armor to his legs with a leather waist guard bound to him by a solid belt. A rectangular golden buckle firmly holds it in place, and beneath it lies two sashes adorned in moderately large palm sized golden bells which jingle loudly and frequently. The bells however are of slightly different size, enough so that it creates alternating and some times disorienting patterns of sound. With white bandages wrapped almost perpetually around his forearms , and red gloves on he plays the look of a brawler; albeit a small one.
Over the years he has found a personal distaste for most human weapons, preferring to damage directly with his hands when fighting in such form. Often their weapons are too bulky or slow. However occasionally he's dabbled in the weapons mounted upon knuckles or worn by weaving fingers through loops and handling them like knives. Even small knife like weapons connected by chain have provided an amusing form to the degree that he would wield it; but otherwise he is never seen sporting an actual weapon.
Personality:Fearless. Years of throwing himself into danger or combat without a second thought had instilled an almost subconscious energetic mindset towards dangerous situations. The high of combat, adrenaline flowing at full throw with the body narrowly avoiding crisp burning brands of pain from an enemies blows while pitting himself to the fullest against a strong combatant...no finer a rush. This has also given him a blood lust of sorts. Any time violence could arise, he is compelled to be present. Missing out on such conflict would simply be unthinkable.
Despite this he is not inherently a vile person. His love for battle does not transcend to brutish murderous intent where he would wantonly kill others; instead translating to an almost internal code. Only fighting those who could fight back. Not out of honor, but for his own thrill. Beating a man or woman who is unable to fight back develops no skills and teaches nothing to him of combat. It does not help refine his reflexes nor would it bring him fun. It is just that, killing without reason and something he dislikes. Always seeking to improve himself and always desiring to grow stronger he has taken to searching out for fights however. Openly challenging people by any means if he believes they could bring him a fun fight, viewing no method of provocation as beneath him.
This reckless abandon for combat and "fun" of it leaves him with little notion of honor. Honor after all, is of no use to the dead. A fools prize. The hunt of power and strength is not his sole enjoyment in life however. Over his life time, revelries has been a pleasant change of pace to a life of training and combat; occasionally even attempting to develop friendships even if his open and ruthlessly blunt manner often chases them away. Spending many years within the western Isles and their surrounding location also immersed him in the methods of pirates and their life style. Spending months upon a ship bound to sea with marauders or reavers of the sea is not foreign to him. Even if he ends up..parting ways in some form or another with them eventually.
He is also very distatched from historical records. He did not keep track of humanities milestones let alone their minor events as time passed by; less so now that his memory has grown foggy and his mind essentially acting upon instinct. This combination with his other natures leads him to a very carefree life style. Someone unbound by society being set lose once more upon the world. Unlike other dragons though, he does not care for the events of the scouring. Growing upon the seas and their law of survival he follows a rule of strength. The strong survive, and if one wishes to maintain their footing they must continue to grow strong. The dragons lost, because they could not overcome the might of the humans great weapons. Though he does long for interaction with other dragons he is likely to find few that would tolerate this mentality of his towards his own race.
Story:
"There is but one thing you must remember. The strong will always stand above the weak. "
One of the few things he recalled his father saying when he was young. That he would later learn his father, like so many other dragons died at human hands came as a surprise to him. However his father did not die in a great war, or some fantastic battle against armies in shining suits of armor. He died...or been killed because of his conflict at the sea, riddled with dozens if not almost a hundred smaller wounds all over his body by pirates. Though both ships had been destroyed, even the great draconic beast had fallen to the accumulated wounds of their weapons. His strength was just great enough to return to his home to see his wife and only son once more, though to his wounds as he took his human form.
That was all just a lingering distant memory though. His strongest memories growing up are those of him being thrown about taverns. The breaking of wooden chairs and feeling a fist clash into his jaw only to snarl and throw himself headfirst back into the body of the sod who he'd likely started a fight with. It served a purpose however. Every time he was beaten within an inch of his life. Every time he felt himself rest or recuperate; even as his mother lectured him for recklessly endangering himself he could feel the changes. Him growing stronger. After his father's death, his mother had become almost over protective of him to a fault. Where before, like her partner she had valued strength; she started to view it as a curse. Blood lust was not a trait that promoted long lives. He might have subscribed to that theory eventually too, if it had not been for a single fact that started to reiterate it's self. He started to win. Men who would beat him mercilessly over time found themselves hard pressed to gain an advantage as the young dragon grew faster. His muscles developed further and his power and speed complimented his light frame easier.
It proved his father's words. If he wanted to focus on surviving, he couldn't do it hiding away on a coast side shack like his mother was content. He had to get out and live. Truly live. A life on the seas. He was however, smart enough to know he couldn't wantonly transform around humans. Pirates were rude foul mouthed brutes, but superstitious like any other human. He knew their talk of sea monsters. Beyond just dragons, but great multi-headed serpent like beasts or great krakens. To a degree, he hoped they were more than myth so that he might pit himself against them one day. If only.
Being a water dragon, Zahhak held an affinity for the seas that humans likely could not relate to. It was symbolic to him. He remembered in his earliest years hearing tales of his people. His father's tribe and how the sea off the coast of their island was their waters. That they could call an entire section of the ocean their own, that they could enforce it with claw and fang and water. A magnificent thought. Humans however, as he started to notice did this as well. Pirates of various power claimed certain parts of the seas as their own territory and killed others for it.
Would this show him the path he wanted? The strength he desired, could he acquire it through fighting these pirates? He wouldn't know until he tried. A final visit home, to his mother first before he departed for this journey had been required. He planned to depart until he could accomplish this dream. He'd no idea how long it would take. Their conversation was long, and she surprisingly accepting. That he reminded her of his father at a younger age was why, as he would come to learn. She spoke to him at length of many things. The old customs of their people, the knowledge of their feuds and wars with humans and more locally to him the battles of their tribe. It was a long conversation, as she told him great stories of clashes upon the seas. Massive dragons twisting in violence and rage to destroy entire ships being confused for horrific maelstroms and natural disasters at sea. It was one of the few times he felt it, pride to be associated with his people.
Zahhak felt truly, that he was part of a tribe; or descendant from one. However at length, their conversation came to an end. With it, so did his stay there. His mother gifted him with an outfit and necklace at the time of his departure to store his stone; one his father had used before him. The symbols of twisting gold whorls and tides behind at the corners of it to form a maelstrom represented his tribe. It was their insignia. His entire outfit though was also that of his tribe. That of the moheet tribe. Bells looped around his waist by rope and a red sash above his belt to identify him further as one. Even among the world of dragons they had been notorious for violence and a lust for battle. An affiliation he would wear with pride, and in the back of his mind; an inkling to learn more. The world had surely forgotten them..but he would not. One of the few things he'd remember with certainty.
His first years at sea were glorious. Battles with and against pirates; even joining human pirate crews under various aliases simply to be where the combat would. The thrill of raiding ships, to fight upon stormy seas, with thunderous tides crashing against the sides of the ship while the great wooden constructs rocked back and forth; no finer a feeling.
Years went on and he saw humans around him succumb to age while he himself felt no touch of it. Life times came and went with him simply growing in strength. He made no attempt to grab land for himself, or sea as it stood, until he was certain of his power however. Humans were fickle, but they could be dangerous. Until he began to hear the same name upon the lips of many a sailor at taverns around the seas. Ceezah. A mountain of a man with a powerful Ax that he claimed gave him the strength of the seas it's self.
Seldom did he get angry by any claims a human made. That however...That was unforgivable. No human could claim right to the seas as their power. It was one of the few things he was proud of, his power to use the ocean's might as his weapon. He would challenge this Ceezah. He would find him, and kill him where he stood.
Seldom in life, even for dragons were things so simple however. Zahhak had joined up with a crew of humans looking to bring about a change in powers. He kept to himself mostly; assuming most of them would die and it be a waste to try really remembering their names. The battle that followed...was savage.
Lightning forked through the sky as the horns of the pirates ship echoed into the seas. rains hammered down upon the ship as winds brutally clashed and a storm furiously battered the seas. The ship flying Ceezah's banners approached swiftly despite this. Men upon either side of the ships decks roared at each-other while a few through ax's or loosed arrows at one another. Zahhak himself was upon one of the crows nests gazing down with a grin once again as the fight began; men attempting to board each ship. The water dragon leapt upwards with eyes aflame, bright with excitement and his voice a bellowing war cry as he descended from the nest of his ship and into the hangings of the other vessel. Hands tightly gripped one of the nets dangling low from the upper sails as he swung briefly before launching off of this too and grabbed a rope tightly wound around the center mast.
He had laughed even, as he launched from the wooden mast down directly to the deck from almost twenty five feet only to land upon one of the Pirate Lord's crew with a violent and brutal series of swift punches. Most were to the throat, even though the second one had killed the man he caught off guard. Upon the deck of the ship he was like a raging serpent, Zahhak living up to his name as he snaked from one victim to the next while brigands furiously battled around him. Each scar upon his body felt like a sign, a proof that this challenge was one he could meet. As if they burned hot like a freshly branded wound in anticipation for this furious confrontation. From above he could see him, a man carrying a colossal well curved ax blade.
He fought near the top of the deck with the man captaining the ship Zahhak had been aboard. A mountain of muscle wearing little to no armor similar to Zahhak himself. The water dragon gazed up with a furious hunger in his eyes. A challenge, the challenge, he had been looking for. With almost no regard for those he had sailed with he sped upwards, grabbing the bottom of the railing to the upper part of the deck and vaulting over it. As he ascended, the newly hewn corpse of the allied pirate captain fell to the water laden deck with a heavy yet somber thud.
Ceezah hoisted his Ax over his shoulder as he lifted a meaty arm to point at the brown haired youth that had just appeared. His voice was savage sounding as he shouted Zahhak. "Come lad, I'll split your head in two!" Chills of anticipation lingered down his spine as he prepared himself to fight this monster. No words. He wouldn't say a thing. Lightly swaying side to side and letting a bounce etch into his step Zahhak got into a more ready stance. Every muscle on edge and every sense alive as he prepared himself; eyes darting to scan each of the mans shoulders and down to his arms before back to him as a whole. The first swing came faster than he'd expected. Bobbing backwards he narrowly avoided it before swiftly extending both hands and jabbing as hard as he could. Two impacts to the man's abdomen in swift succession before Zahhak lowered his head and spin to the side. Ceezah wrenched the Ax to the side, trying to cleave him in half.
The battle was furious, and it raged on long after the rest of the pirates Zahhak had opted to assist were slain. Hollering and sneering men surrounded him, watching sneeringly as their captain battled the man. No one dared interfere, fearing the captain might strike them down. The Water Dragon continued to evade blows, but only barely. He was fast, but despite the man's overwhelming power he was dangerously good. It was only slightly a surprise then when the dragon lunged forward to strike only to feel the solid shaft of the ax crash into the side of his head. He hadn't even noticed the pirate reverse his grip of the weapon.
The blow didn't hurt too much, but it did disorient him. Enough so that the pirate was able to land a savage hook to the side of his ribs. The blow almost launched him off his feet as he slid back before smacking into the railing along the back of the upper deck. Another close fisted blow to his jaw as the man snarled violently. Arms draped over the sides, the Dragon spit blood out of his mouth as he looked up only to see Ceezah lifting up the Ax. He felt the urge to transform. To turn into his draconic self and grind the pirate beneath him into a pulp of red. Hadn't his father made a similar mistake though? Self-preservation dictated his next movement. Instinctively, Zahhak used the grip he had on the railing to swiftly pull himself as he moved upwards while also tucking his knees. While Ceezah tried to bring the Ax down the dragon kicked off of his torso. Hard. Releasing his grip of the railing he kicked off of the ship and sent himself sailing towards the water. His head burning and his vision slightly blurred from motion combined with the concussive blows he did not see the heavy wooden lower railings extending near the mid point of the ship. His head smacked against it as he fell off the back of the ship causing him to spin mid fall and crash into the tides below. All memory faded as darkness enveloped him.
When he next woke, his mind was shrouded in haze. Thoughts were difficult to grasp at. It was a sensation similar to grasping at mist. Each time he thought he'd grabbed something only to feel it slip away. He began to become more aware of his surroundings. Sounds at first. The ocean waves breaking upon surface of land. The feeling of his body being pulled upon? Rushing water around him. Sand being washed away by water beneath him as he started to lift himself up. Upon the shores of Etruria he found himself, though he knew not it at the time. Defeated, he struggled to rise as memory slowly trickled back to him. A single word left his lips. " Ceezah. " The end game. The goal.
Most might have considered this a sign to change. To try living life a different way. However..he was alive. Zahhak was by no means out of the picture and if he was strong enough to have survived he could become strong enough to beat him down. That he would too, that he would.
