...a glittering green-blue expanse that shone in the early sun's light, as important to the four Water dragons as walls were to a King- this is what kept them safe, and now they feel an eery fear settling into the pits of their stomachs, drawn by the knowledge that as land became clearer and clearer, the more likely armies will come to bring them down. Dragons rarely united, he knew, besides to mate. Indeed- only one of the four water dragons flying over the water was female, and not he nor the other two males even thought of mating with her- she was a self-proclaimed war-maiden, a concept stolen from human prisoners. It rankled Tenator, to the point where he might snap at her for using a *human* concept, but it kept the other two from vying for her attentions, and kept the group sound and stable. His thoughts wandered into trains like those as he flew- flew for an entire day already. The sun was rising to their right wing-tip, as it had when they first set off from their island refuge. The dragon who delivered the message was smaller and a bit faster- as the day had worn on, they were slowly left behind. It didn't bother Tenator- he was gliding most of the time, occasionally diving into the water and then resting on its surface, wings outstretched with air caught between wing and water, holding him afloat. His three allied dragons had all practically sworn themselves to him- they had each seen more of their kind slaughtered against armies, and he managed to destroy an entire one without a single hole punched through the wingmembrane by an arrow. When his thoughts snapped back to reality, it was to take in the sight of the coast rushing towards him. His wings angled; his tail twitched, and he rose into the air in a slight spiral, coming up parallel with the coast, flying higher. He couldn't resist; his maw opened and he let out a roar, shattering the morning's sky. He saw a village, far ahead and below, but left it alone- if he were to help rule this area, and eventually bring the entire continent to its knees once more, then it would be no use destroying a resource. One of his guards meant to do just that, but he swooped in front of him, warning him off with a telepathic vibe of warning and to persevere their peace for now. Then he lead the short way inland, to the land they were supposed to meet the one who called him, the one who called many. He lowered himself to the ground near a trade road, taking in the trade caravan that was traveling along it- and now thoroughly panicking- and blocking its forward path. Another of his own landed behind, and then the last two on either side. Suddenly, a crossbow bolt flew out of one of the carts, striking Tenator's crest between his eyes, and he shook his head back and forth, aggravated from the eye-watering pressuring that had suddenly appeared. Now, thoroughly pissed, he lowered himself to the ground, keeping the soft belly protected and safe, and gathered himself up. His maw opened once more, and instead of a roar or flame coming out, several of the terrified caravaners rushed him, crossbows in hand. Two bolts fired and were lodged between his teeth, painfully close to his gums, to the point of drawing his blood. The last would've gone straight down his throat and impaled an artery, had his tongue not come up by reflex, and been penetrated. Tenator shrieked, not even a roar, a higher-pitched cry of pain and anger and fury. The three before him fell the ground, dropping their crossbows to slam their hands to their ears, as Tenator darted forward and crushed them beneath tooth and claw. Another crossbow bolt flew out of the leading wagon, right as he bared his teeth, obviously trying to accomplish the same as the other three, and ricocheted off the side of his snout, missing worse than before. Tenator, fed up with them, gave the mental command; a moment later, the caravan lay burning, destroyed, all but two of the six wagons still intact. The three survivors huddled inside, crying, as the sounds of scraping and clawing grew louder and louder, until one of them- the youngest, felt an odd flash of... power, outside. Unknowingly, he had the magical talent, and he had just sensed the four dragons turning into one heavily armored warrior, the other three in rogue-like assassin/theif-looking garments. The now-noble warrior strode up to one side of the wagon, brushing aside the curtain, and peering into the three terrified faces. They were flooded with relief, mixed with confusion and fear- did the dragons leave? Were they coming back? This man looked like he could take them all himself, the little two thought, while their caretaker hoped for safety and to be away from the burning caravan. When she rushed forward to embrace him, already muttering her thanks, the warrior pulled out a knife, and jammed it through her ribs as she threw her arms around him. He gently pulled her out, as if still in embrace, and laid her out on the ground, just as the other two appeared, reaching for him. Ten minutes later, one warrior and three rogues walked down the road from the burning caravan, anything gold looted, melted down by their inherent fire abilities into rough bars, and each riding a horse, two from each of the two surviving caravans. It would be awhile before they reached their destination, and word will soon reach their destination that the caravan had not arrived- and that it had been found burned and the few survivors lain dead, between the two undamaged carts.

Tenator stalked along the road, having shifted into dragon form once he sensed the powerful wards that kept the castle hidden. His three guards were, as well, shifted, though they looked noticeably different from his distinctive figure. Unlike most dragons, he had three rows of rear-leaning spikes that trailed the top of his spine, and either side of it. Instead of the usual dragon snout, he had the somewhat distinctive, hard-point beak-ish mouth, without real teeth. The sides of his mouth did the cutting, with a sort of bone-scale hybrid making up the edges of his mouth. The acids in his stomach break down meat and bone faster than any other, another trait that goes hand-in-hand with his appearance differences. But other than that, he was still a normal dragon. Being an aged dragon, at least compared to the current days' dragons, his size and bulk was enough to make the ground shudder slightly. Combined with three other, if smaller, dragons stepping in time to his own, the trees nearby kept up a constant, soft fall of leaves. As he approached the gates, the draconian (Tenator's term for dragons in human form) guards signaled others, and the large, dragon-sized portcullis rose into the gatehouse, the gates behind it slowly being pulled open by more guards. Tenator was pleased; it appeared that the oh-so-great king-of-dragons took security seriously. Dragons in human form were, no doubt, formidable opponents, when compared to regular human soldiers. Inside, Tenator couldn't help but be impressed- such a large collection of buildings and people, the primary roads all being large enough to fit himself and his three guards without any trouble. His distinctive features recognized, many dragons- draconian or dragon form alike- turned to watch him stride through into their city. He kept his head high; his wings slightly unfurled, just enough to give his wings some breathing room, and to make himself appear somewhat larger and more impressive. A dragon had to keep up with his ego, after all, and his gleaming, thick scale certainly spoke of wealth. Turning to one of the gate guards, he motioned towards the castle, and ordered him, voice rumbling, "Alert the Dragon King that the Water Lord has arrived." He watched the draconian hurry towards the castle, after bowing and responding with a "Right away, sir." It seemed human customs had come over into their people. The thought made his scales shift uneasily, and a growl to jump from his chest. Letting the draconian have a head start, he continued on his way through the main road. He could have flown, of course, or come from the water, but he wanted all the dragons to know he had arrived. As was the way of the dragon- keep the ego high and pillage all the inferior biped races.