As the clock struck midnight, in swam the rfolk Monarch, with a giant bubble of floating seawater, gracing the elven palace with his esteed presence.
Queen Tashr, in all her wisdom and benevolence, had commissioned a grand aquatic chamber, ensuring it was fully waterproofed - because, you know, of course, rfolk tend to have a thing for water.
And wouldn't you know it, just when you thought one royal guest was enough for the night, in sauntered a majestic Alicorn in the wee hours of the morning.
Of course, the Alicorn was given the sa styled lavish accommodations as the Centaur Tribe Chief, because, clearly, equine creatures must stick together in their custom-designed chambers.
As for the dragon… well.
“Is Isaiah not hither yet?” Morgan asked in the morning as she walked down the corridor to the assembly.
Tashr, who followed her closely, shook her head. “We did foresee him to arrive anon.”
“He is ne’er one to be tardy. Perchance sowhat hath transpired,” Morgan muttered.
Tashr laughed. “What mishap could betide the strongest dragon this world hath ever witnessed?”
Morgan took a deep breath. “Thou art right. I am too impatient.”
As the grand double doors swung open, announcing the entrance of Morgan Le Fay, the Original Saint, and the Elven Queen Tashr Reyrie, the assembly hall buzzed with anticipation.
The room was a veritable nagerie of mythical beings, each more illustrious than the last. Could it get any more dramatic? Brace yourselves for the mythical et and greet.
There stood the Dwarf King Wekkoun Anville, his regal beard practically brushing the floor and could probably double as a royal rug, as he exchanged a knowing nod with a majestic alicorn who exuded an air of superiority, Eos Kirmizi.
The Centaur Great Tribe Chief Adroros Borion towered over the crowd, his expression a mix of stoicism and pride.
In a corner, the Beastkin Sovereign, a female Weretiger nad Selen Blackmantle, purred softly as her minotaur husband Theor stood protectively by her side. The Werewolf Alpha King Onulph Sam exuded an aura of dominance, his piercing gaze surveying the room with a wolfish hunger.
The vampire father-daughter duo of Cardinal Vlad and Salsabella Wallachia stood in a shadowed alcove, their pale faces betraying no emotion as they observed the gathering with an air of detached curiosity.
And near a shimring floating blob of water, the rfolk Monarch Aidyl Navarre, resplendent in fins and scales, added a touch of aquatic grace to the eclectic mix.
It was a sight to behold, this gathering of mythical beings, a veritable circus of power and politics. And in the midst of it all, Morgan and Tashr Reyrie stood, their presence commanding attention and respect amidst the colorful tapestry of creatures that surrounded them.
"Welco, my friends. It’s been too long. How delightful to see you all again after millenias of uninterrupted ' ti'. Thank you, sky disturbance, for bringing us here," Morgan said in the common tongue.
The mythical beings all turned towards her and obediently knelt, including the esteed Five Elven Tribe Elders and the revered Queen Tashr.
"Since this room has the prestigious seal of approval from the world tree, feel free to prattle on in your native tongues. I know so of you have brushed up on your Common, like the Dwarfs and the Vampires, but fear not, we've got translation covered," Morgan said.
As she spoke, a majestic golden pot holding a dainty miniature tree gracefully descended from the sky.
When one envisioned a world tree, one might expect sothing truly awe-inspiring. Grand and majestic, perched atop a lush hill…
Yet, in this world, our world tree was... petite. Every bonsai parent would squeal. It was in a perfect symbollic shape that had been grood by the horticultural elite; small but oh so sophisticated, demure, nothing else could compare to its elegance and charm.
“Then, let us begin.”
CRASHH!!!
As the assembly of mythical beings marveled at the miniature world tree descending gracefully, a sudden crash shattered the tranquility.
The glass ceiling exploded into a shower of shimring shards as a figure dramatically barged in, creating a grand entrance that even the most dramatic soap opera stars would envy.
The humanoid creature's enchanting appearance held an air of arrogance and nonchalance, as if she owned the very space she invaded.
Dragon horns adorned her head like a crown, emphasizing her regal deanor. With light blue hair tumbling around her shoulders and reptilian eyes glinting in an amber hue, she exuded a dangerous allure that left the onlookers both captivated and wary.
“NYAHAHAHAHAH!”
A maniacal laugh escaped her lips, filled with the kind of mischief that promised trouble of the grandest scale. The echoes of her laughter reverberated through the room, mingling with the astonishnt and apprehension of those gathered.
“Nayanika is here~!”
She surveyed the assembly with a smirk, her gaze flickering with undisguised amusent at the stunned expressions before her. This dragon-like creature seed to thrive on chaos and revel in disrupting the peaceful proceedings, her very presence a challenge to the established order.
“Oh, we et again, Miss Original Saint~ I heard you got married!”
With an imperious tilt of her head, she spoke in a voice laced with sardonic amusent, her words dripping with sarcasm that cut through the tension like a dagger.
"So this is why you were late, Isaiah," Morgan smiled at Nayanika.
The woman looked at her confused. “Yep! I was the one who held him! Undagi and Rinai are facing him right nyaow! Oops~ I wasn’t supposed to say that! I an~ Isaiah is sick and couldn’t attend!”
Morgan chuckled. “You have been through quite a lot, then, Isaiah?”
Nayanika blinked, frowned, and pointed at herself. “Why do you keep addressing him?! It’s Nayanika who’s right in front of you!”
The female dragon suddenly felt a chill as a tall shadow of a man erged behind her. When she turned, she saw him — "I… Isaiah...?”
Isaiah stood at 7 feet tall, with long black hair reaching the floor, and a pair of horns, one broken. His amber reptile eyes gazed down at Nayanika, while two male humanoid dragons lay unconscious, being carried by him like two sacks of potatoes.
"Thou thought thy two little boyfriends can hold , child?" Isaiah asked coldly.
Nayanika beca pale.
"Stand thee in the corner," Isaiah commanded with his superior dragon tongue. As he threw the two male dragons around the ntioned corner, Nayanika dejectedly faced the wall.
Morgan, anwhile, effortlessly repaired the shattered ss with a re wave of her hand. As for the poor souls in the room, their facial expressions remained frozen in a futile attempt to comprehend the spectacle before them.
So of them were younglings who only heard the legendary figures of days gone by from… well, legends – such as Isaiah, the Dragon of the East, and Vlad, the Vampire of the West.
“Once again, let us begin,” Morgan said as she took the lead seat. Cardinal Vlad and Isaiah sat on her right and left, as she was the north star.
"Ah, how nostalgic," Vlad muttered, a wistful look in his eyes. "The only mber who isn't here is rlin..." he mused, his voice trailing off as he gazed into the distance.
Morgan's eyes flickered at his words, her expression briefly clouded.
In a soft tone, she addressed the room, "I have sothing important to share with all of you later. But for now, let's direct our attention to the matter before us. Allow to introduce my husband."
As the double doors swung open with a foreboding creak, a man of ominous presence stepped through the threshold. His deanor was as cold as the chill that seed to follow him, sending shivers down the spines of those gathered.
Each calculated step he took echoed through the room and corridor, heavy, a nacing rhythm from the tal heels that seed to announce his arrival with an air of authority and danger.
He opened his lips, introducing himself.
"Caliburn Soulnon Pendragon, son of Arthur Souljust Pendragon,"
The second sword of Arthur, forged and birthed by none other than the Lady of the Lake, Nimuë.
Excalibur.
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Caliburn is Latin for Excalibur. Excalibur is the french version.
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