With the leaving of the one appearing to be Fiamma, a cloud lifted from the mind of Drak, his clarity of thought returning and he found himself momentarily at a loss. Opening his soul to reach across the vast distances between himself and Iffurn Saeghol, allowing himself to be cleansed from whatever confusion lay upon him by the potence of the mightiest of his race. A bow of the ancient hounds head in acknowledgement then a shimmering arising round his form, brighter and brighter, gleams of gold arising in vast power to force all to look away lest they find themselves blinded in the intensity. The sound of rolling thunder echoing across the landscape. The primordial effulgency of the dragonesque bellow blending within the sound of his shape change, reaching across the landscape and in its twisting symphony a tone emerging, similar to fingernails upon a chalkboard reaching, probing, then shattering the illusion of emptiness surrounding them. A last gift from Loki the trickster, after all he was never want to make things easy for any whom walked near mortal planes.
The utmost pinnacle of sound breaking, the glare dimming then striding forwards a man, tall, strong, his honour surrounding him like a cloak, eyes of gold fleckewd with emerald staring forwards from the regal mein of this man, Clothing of form fitting black, much as his master had chosen for attire, hair to the middle of his back, bound in a plait, of purest white, a closely trimmed beard highlighting the definition of his jaw, slender yet giving the impression of bulk, the dragon essence never hidden away and immensity swelled around him, even though to the naked eye, he was only a man.
In the shattering of the illusion, the lands emptiness vanished and before them rising up a low plateaux revealing a stately manor house, stone walls gleaming in newness, a large central villa surrounded by smaller buildings. Fruit trees and gardens all standing to await its guests. From deep within his chest, the stirring of air as across his lips a grin appeared, even though within his heart smiling was the last thing he felt like. Stirring echoes carrying on his voice as if he spoke in multitudes, yet he was alone... his voice softly spoken would carry to the ears of any in subtle power "It seems the gods have tricked us, for shelter stands before us with food awaiting. I doubt greatly there is any chance of servants, but find that concept appealing in itself. Llewellynn... methinks we should explore yonder Manor..." his eyes clouding for on the horizon storm clouds of dark sheen seemed to be gathering and heading in their direction.
"If that storm should gather we will have need of the shelter offered." His voice directing to all "Forgive me my earlier, intransience, there were distractions which must at some point be explored, but for now, I think we have other worries." A hand gesturing to the deep dark clouds. A he turned to move over to where Llewellyn stood, an echo, a memory shared with his closest bond tickled his senses and a face which his master held dear appeared before his eyes. She had vanished, but it seemed the gods had recognised her spirit and brought her here...
Closing his eyes, mind reaching out, knowing that she had it within her blood to sense his seeming. "I know you... you bear the untainted blood, you carry yourself in the manner my 'king' shared memory of. Come, there is shelter and food and methinks the storm coming be not natural and shelter will be required. Come and be welcome, for you carry the blood of ancient nobility milady and none shall do you harm nor make you feel unwelcome as your own blood has done before." With that he opened his eyes, allowing that Ariana had her own mind which was perhaps why those of weakened will found issue in dealing with her. Stepping to where the others had gathered, he pointed towards the manor again and took the first steps towards the buildings.
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