Name: R'kash
Age: 72
Occupation: seeker
Genre: fantasy
Rough description: small and slim compared to his kin, about thirty feet tall and 100 feet long; scales pale yellow with an irridescent sheen, blue eyes

More:
R'kash wasn't even clutched when the queen disappeared in a warp storm 200 years ago, but he knows her scent as well as any other dragon in his clan. Inspired by tales of her and by the shared memories of his people, he joined a search team as soon as he was old enough, and he slips between worlds in the hopes of catching her scent in foreign lands.

Sample:
The air was cold and thin as high as he was flying, but the reek from below stung his nostrils, and despite his best efforts, he sneezed violently. He circled once, wings quivering with agitation. If she was below, he'd have to fly far closer and somehow sort through the clouds of stench.

It wasn't any wonder the scouts had given this world more than a single pass, even setting aside physical dangers. Few of the interconnected worlds of the web had advanced to the stage of manmade flight, but this one had. Little magic to speak of, but more than enough technology to make up for it. One of the initiates -- Meroth, wasn't it? -- had returned to the aerie with her wing nearly shorn off and hadn't been able to tell them what had hit her. A shiver worked its way down his spine.

He circled lower, eyes watering as the acrid smell grew stronger.

She probably wasn't here. He could make the call and go back. No one truly expected him to find her, but everyone did a tour on the deceptively beautiful planet at least once, and it was past his turn. How could she have made a home among a people who would hurt her own, anyway?

The wind picked up, and he shifted to adjust for it.

There were more ways to search for her than scent, but he wasn't as well-versed in them as his elders. The byways of draconic thought wound differently than other species, and the well-trained could reach out to find familiar pathways. It wasn't something he'd ever attempted. His nose, he was told, was talented enough on its own.

He wasn't sure it would serve him particularly well here, though.

He continued in a slow, wide spiral, piercing the canopy of clouds above a rambling mountain range and aiming for the tallest peak. It would be better to have all four feet on the ground. Flying didn't take much concentration, but it took enough he didn't want to try unfamiliar mental exercises at the same time.

He landed heavily, feet crunching on snow and stone, and stalked forward, clumsier on the ground, before winding his way to the top of the pinnacle and lifting his nose to the wind.

Still nothing.

He debated a moment longer, then closed his eyes and listened.

He almost closed his ears, mental thought they were, immediately. The rattle of thought surged over him, inane and chattering -- how could their possibly be so many of them all talking at once? He sucked in a sharp breath of air, warmer now but still cold, and blew it out in a puff of flame, forcing his shoulders to relax.

Search, he reminded himself, for what's different.

He stretched his thoughts into the planetary conversation once again, this time letting the stream of consciousness flow around him, rather than battering him against the rocks. It was better, if still not terribly pleasant, and he lowered his head to the rocks, sighing softly. This was going to take a while.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there before he felt a voice tease against his consciousness, familiar and yet wholly alien.

"Who are you?" he heard a voice say in his own tongue, and he sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open.

He cast out for the voice again, lashing his tail. It was fainter now, disappearing, but he had a direction, enough to start moving.

He stretched his wings and sprang into the air.

She was here.

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