Thunder of Thanasis Rise or Fall

[Bani]

Bank fought the darkness at the edge of her vision as Vexillion dove down, down, down towards the steaming chasm. Arrows and fire danced around her, but for any to hit her at this speed would be pure dumb luck. She relied on those statistics, because dodging at this speed would likewise be pure, dumb luck.

The great fissure was much larger than it looked from the sky. She could see the city cobbles running right up to the edge and pouring over the side. Rubble lined its maw and Bani felt a burning hatred in her heart. She raged against the jarlax for those lives they had taken. A sneaky, evil ambush from below. No one along the fissure’s line stood a chance, no one could prepare. Bani made a vow to avenge them, those who were not even given the chance to fight.

She was not given a chance to prepare for what came next, either. Cthurgorj erupted atop his mount. It barely fit through the opening in the earth, and when it did it brought a powerful shockwave.

It hit her, like a solid and invisible wall. Vex buckled beneath it, his head forced down and his feathers flattening against the force. Bani felt her organs crash into her bones as they stopped too suddenly. She felt the horrible crunch of pressure, and then she felt weightless.

Had she broken her neck? No, she could feel her limbs and the pain they radiated. The world was spinning… she was spinning… oh fuck she was falling!

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been unseated. Her thoughts immediately went to Vexillion. He was not dead, she knew that in her soul, but he was no longer beneath her. The city was beneath her… then above her… then beneath her and growing closer.

Remember what to do.

Bani cooled her thoughts. She was probably going to die. Probably going to hit the ground at any second and explode into a fine paste. She might stain the street, but nothing else of her would remain, not from this height. It’s not how she thought she would die, but panic wouldn’t change that. If she was going to avenge anyone, she needed to act quickly.

First stop the spinning. Bani threw out her arms and legs and forced her muscles to fight the twisting dance. Her goggles had mercifully stayed on, and she could see clearly despite the hairline cracks in the lenses. She turned twice more before evening out with her belly to the ground. Her spread limbs did little to slow her descent, but she did feel the air resistance against her flying leathers. She could also see, quite clearly, that she would not be dashed against Thanasis’ streets because she was falling directly towards the chasm.

It glowed a soft orange, and it produced a heat that was rising by the second. Backlit against the glow were more riders. More wyverns and jarlax to reinforce those they had killed. Bani wondered if she would be skewered on a spear before she hit the bottom of this canyon. Or maybe it had no bottom. Maybe she would fall and keep falling until the fires of the underworld ate her up.

No! Fuck that! the destruction of her city filled her with fury once again. She grit her teeth and felt hot tears of rage in her eyes. I’m not dying alone!

She saw the shadowed silhouette of a wyvern rising to meet her. It took a few adjustments, but Bani edged her path towards it. Being small served her well, here, for the Jarlax rider didn’t see her. Or, if it did, did not react before she barreled into him.

She felt several pops in her body when she hit, but the Jarlax’s big, stupid, meaty body cushioned her. The pair of them tumbled down the back of its mount. Bani grasped desperately at its dark scales, sliding down its body until she made purchase along one of its tail spines. The Jarlax had not been so lucky, and it continued the descent that was rightfully Bani’s to the heart of the world. Bani spit after him, but it came out dry and, of course, went right into her leather face covering.

It was the principle of the thing.

Now she had to climb. Hand over hand up the wyvern’s tail. Dragging herself was slow, but if she stopped she would die. The wyvern cleared the canyon’s edge and leveled out, giving Bani the chance to stand and clamber her way to its bare back.

Its scales were thick. Holding fast to its shoulder spines Bani tried stabbing in between its armored plates with her knife. She could get through, but the monster was too large or too stupid to notice. In either case, she had not slowed it at all.

Bani’s rage mixed with frustration and futility. She had not so much captured an enemy mount as it had captured her. She couldn’t pilot this damned thing, and it probably couldn’t even feel her on its back.

“Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!!!” she screamed, stabbing at it again and again, spattering herself with its unnatural blood. Her knife carved deep holes in its flesh, but again did nothing to slow it down.

A familiar screech sounded to her right, and she whipped her head to see a dark, small dragon.

“Vex!” A relief flooded her so powerfully that it almost replaced her anger. She had not realized how badly she needed to see that Vexillion was alright. His flight was a little unsteady, but he was airborne.

She looked back at the holes she had made in the wyvern’s back. She set her face. She wasn’t letting this thing live. With a whistle to Vex, the small dragon aligned its flight, getting close enough for Bani to reach for the saddlebags on his side. Twice she grasped air, but the third time she held fast and cut the satchel loose.

She held the bag tight, squeezing her legs as hard as she could to stay steady on the wyvern. She had dropped her knife, sent it sailing below, and used one arm to hold the bag and the other to pull out the small metal spheres that were packed inside. They were filled with pitch and kindling, and sealed tight so that, once ignited, pressure would build inside until they burst. She took these “bursters” and shoved one into each deep would in the wyvern’s back. Its flesh gave a nauseating squelch, and felt cooler than it should, all slime and blood and no life.

When she was done, she leapt… well, fell… from the wyvern’s back. Vexillion caught her, and the pair half-flew-half-fell the city streets and rolled into a heap.

The next dragon that threw fire at that wyvern would see quite a fireworks show. Bani, however, was content to be done.

The Jarlax looming above her had other plans, though.

“Fuck.”

 

[Talorgan]

Talorgan dived over the market stall. The club hit the wooden table behind him, shattering planks.

Talorgan hadn't been so unprepared for a fight in his life. It had all been games, learning to fight as the youngest son of a noble family.

His first years in the wilds, he had been protected by the forward military forces of Thansis. For years he had known those lands well. He had taken care and always engaged on his own terms.

Now he was unarmed against a fearsome jarlax.

Talorgan grabbed the cloth from the market stall.

The club was swung at him. Talorgan ducked and then launched himself forwards, wrapping cloth around the jarlax's head. Talorgan dragged the beast down and struck it with fists and elbows until it stopped moving.

"Fuck," he sighed.

When she was done, she leapt… well, fell… from the wyvern’s back. Vexillion caught her, and the pair half-flew-half-fell the city streets and rolled into a heap.

Talorgan looked around for some kind of a weapon. It seemed be was going to be stuck with a crude club. It was heavy wood and bone.

"Hey!" he called out. "You alive?"

The fight was going on in the air, but people on the ground were going to suffer. He needed weapons and armour. Biersys would be beyonf the city, likely taking shelter with some many dragons in the sky.

 

[Dane Fedyr]

He dashed forward, focusing on moving and not letting his vision become distracted. Not until his hands held those ropes he saw. This told him that the dragon recently lost a rider, for everything he could see from here looked as if someone had been sitting up there moments before. Fedyr didn't care if the saddle was too large or too small for him, he could always switch it out.

Listen to you. Already thinking you have bonded with the dragon. His doubt didn't weigh him down. There was nothing more powerful than being able to see through that bullshit that stopped many others, but he supposed those types would see what he was doing as stupidity. He could practically hear Cullen's word in his mind, telling Fedyr he was playing with dangerous fates.

If Dane could not do this, then his death impacted no one.

If he survived this, if he succeeded past his own fears... then there was a hell of a reckoning coming to those that doubted his worth in life.

It was with this infernal thought that Fedyr reached the dragon. His hands and feet climbed the foreleg as fast as he could before the dragon registered how quickly he got there. With a jump, a leap of faith, his hands found the rope.

And began to slip rapidly on the slick rope, not until his other hand reached out and held himself up. Heart racing, he began to climb. Again, he put away his thoughts, all but one.

Climb.

 

[Leovold]

A violent jet of plasma erupted from Iralux's mouth, tearing a perfect hole through the assailing wyvern's chest. The life drained from the thing's eyes and it fell from the air, a smoldering husk. Not one to be outdone, Leovold had Iralux dive right after the branded pair. A Jarlax bat rider had pulled into pursuit of the man; Leovold skewered the rider on the end of his lance, and Ira's searing claws shredded the beast it was riding apart.

"I detest you. But that doesn't mean we don't share a home," Leo called after him, likely only barely audible over the rush of air and din of battle. "I'm not so foolish as to turn away assistance when our enemy is at our doorstep!"

Iralux corkscrewed, flying in an odd concert with Meala. The two riders, enemies at heart, forced to fly and fight together to each other's aid. And it was in that twisted formation that Leovold spotted it, that abominable monster, that twin-headed behemoth bearing down on the city...on them.

"There! That one!" Leovold shouted. "It might be a champion of sorts. If we kill that beast and its rider, maybe the others will lose their morale!"

It was worth a shot, at least.

---

As sure as Bani had planted her explosives in that wyvern and tumbled down below, a torrent of plasma soon trailed after and struck the creature. The bursters erupted within it, obliterating the thing in spectacular fashion. A strong rush of air filtered through the streets that the noble girl and Talorgan stood upon as Magnus and Lord Tyros swept over, the hulking monster of a dragon scything and biting its way through wyverns, bats, and jarlax alike.

Tyros, swung an oversized flail from side to side, pulping those that drew too close. Here, Lord Solherre and his splendid hybrid could be seen most visibly by onlookers. Here they could best obtain glory, while sticking away from where the fighting was thickest and at its most risky. Indeed, this locale suited Tyros' wants perfectly.

 

[Greydon]

Greydon's head snapped around the moment he heard the distinct high pitched melody that was a female Moon Dragon's screech. It broke through the chaos like a lullaby or lament, even Drazhan turned his head in time to see the dragon soar through practically undetectable as it's hide blended with the storm and night. Grey could not help but remember the night of the eclipse again, hearing that sound all night as Moon Dragons were brutally killed by abominations of the eclipse.

But this was not that night.

Then he saw her.

Fucking hells, Eira. Greydon's jaw tensed, and without his command, Drazhan moved to follow the other. He knew his cousin would not sit by and wait for all of this to be over, even if that was surely the expectation her husband-to-be's family had for her, but Eira was a Malennis and they held stubbornness in their blood.

"The Hatchery, cousin!" He roared, needing to be heard.

He could not see if Eira deigned him with a response, but the next moment, both the Moons dove to circle back to the Hatchery. "Dragons on the ground! Let us give aerial support, Greydon!"

It was there on the tip of his tongue to tell her no, to tell her to get inside, but he knew he would not be talking to just his cousin, but to her dragon. Bloodthirsty and eager to rip their teeth into something, the Moon Dragons were vicious and protective. He thought quickly, taking into account that they both were dressed for stealth, and that this was the infamy of the Moon Dragons and their riders.

No one would be able to detect they were coming.

"Shadow me!" He insisted, and to his relief, Tyafainne fell back beats behind Drazhan.

The cousins would hunt in pairs. Any enemy that dared to near the Hatchery would be in for a surprise.

 

[Synneve]

The great ice beast of a dragon began to turn. Not away from her, but up.

It's wings unfurled with the sound of ice cracking over stone, vast enough to block out the sun and stirring wind so sharp it stung Synneve's already raw skin. She had barely enough time to register the shift before it crouched low, muscles bunching beneath scales like armored glaciers. And it launched itself skyward.

"No!" She yelped. Every instinct screamed at her. Do not let him leave you behind.

Synneve moved. Her legs still felt like lead, her ribs ached from that blast to her chest. But still, she surged forward anyway, scrambling up the incline of stone beneath her and leaping- catching hold of the lowed ridges of his jagged blue tail.

Wind tore at her hair and it snapped violently against her body as the dragon rose higher and higher. Each powerful wingbeat sent her stomach lurching. Her boots searched for something solid against the slick, ice-glazed scales as she dragged herself upward, using every ounce of strength she had left to haul herself along the beast's spine.

His body was not made for climbing. It was smooth where it needed to be, and razor-edged everywhere else. Her fingers slipped against the glassy plates of ice-hardened scale, finding only fleeting purchase in the shallow ridges beneath them.

And still, he climbed higher.

The ground below blurred into nothing but brown and red shimmering heat and ash stained air. If she fell now...

Don't think about falling.

She was nearly there. She climbed further up. Nearly to where the wings were rooted. Where a rider, if she could call herself that, might sit. But just as she reached to swing a leg up and over, the dragon banked. Hard. The sudden tilt ripped her loose. Her body swung sideways, hanging on by one desperate, shaking hand clinging to the edge of a scale. Her feet kicked uselessly in the open sky.

She was slipping. The surface beneath her hand was slick with frost, fingers bloodied from the climb. She was rapidly losing the battle with the dragon, and without thinking, without time to think, Synneve yanked a dagger free from her hip and slammed it down into the space between two scales.

The blade hit deep and her dragon roared.

It was not the sound of pain. It was fury. Raw and ancient and offended down to his very bones. She felt it like a growl vibrating through her teeth and her dagger, through the fragile length of her human body clinging to the back of something that should have left her behind.

Another desperate stab anchored her other hand beneath his scales. Wind screamed past her and the dragon's body writhed beneath her like a mountain come to life. And Synneve realized, panting, wide-eyed, clinging like some stubborn parasite, that she had made a horrible mistake.

The great body beneath her jerked. With a vicious, deliberate twist, the dragon flung her off of his back. Her body sailed through the air- weightless and helpless. The roar of wind and wings and her own heartbeat deafened her as the sky tilted wildly around her flailing form. The last thing she saw was the dragon wheeling sharply mid-air, watching her as his talons flexed.

Whether to catch her, or crush her...she didn't know.

The world rushed up to meet her. And everything went white.

 

[Cole]

The dragon snarled at him, lips curling back to reveal rows of jagged, obsidian teeth, and then, without hesitation, it devoured the corpse. The sound alone was enough to make Cole’s stomach twist violently, bone crunching, sinew tearing, a wet, grotesque gorging that echoed through the molten cavern.

He lay there on the blistering stone floor, sweat and blood soaking his back, the heat gnawing at him from every direction. His breath came in shallow gasps. His eyelids began to droop, exhaustion pulling him under like a tide.

Then, a screech. Sharp and piercing. It rang out across the mountains, followed by another, and another.

The dragon’s blood-slick maw lifted from its meal, head swiveling toward the sound. Its scales shuddered, and a thunderous growl built deep within its chest, reverberating through the cavern like a distant quake.It crouched low, wings twitching, tail coiling. One molten eye locked onto him.

Climb. The word wasn’t spoken, but somehow the intention echoed through him all the same. Cole just blinked, the command clear despite the silence. The dragon growled again, louder this time, dislodging loose stones from above, dust and grit raining down on him.

“Alright, alright,” he snapped, gritting his teeth as he rolled and forced himself upright. Every movement was pain. But he staggered forward, reaching up and clutching a spine as thick as his arm, trying once, slipping, then trying again, finally managing to wedge himself between two great spines the length of long swords.

The dragon shifted under him, crawling toward the cavern mouth before rising to its full, towering height. Cole’s breath caught. It was gargantuan. His adrenaline surged and pain vanished beneath it.. and Cole laughed.

Hysterical, disbelieving laughter tore from his throat. He was riding a fucking dragon!

That was, until the beast's wings opened, and it dove.

He screamed. High-pitched and utterly undignified.

“Woah!! what the fuck!?! I did NOT tell you to fly!”.. That was how it worked, right? The dragon roared in response, blasting a stream of fire into the air, and flew straight through it.

“Fuck!!” he yelped, swatting at a small flame that kindled in his stubble. “Point taken!”

They soared, the wind howling, the mountains blurring into a smear of colour below. Then, movement. The frosty bastard from before, the ice dragon that had scarred him for life, flew nearby. And someone was on its back.

Cole snarled, teeth clenched. “Can we at least throw some fire up that thing’s arse?”

He pointed, but his words caught in his throat. More shapes streaked across the sky. Wyverns. And on their backs, Jarlax riders, armed and ready.

Below, screams rose from the cliffs. Participants scrambled in all directions, some picked off mid-sprint, vanishing into the sky with flailing limbs and terrified cries. Cole nearly lost his seat as his dragon banked hard, jaws snapping at the tail of a fleeing wyvern.

“Are you fucking mental?” The dragon didn’t slow, didn’t falter.

Trial by fire it was.

 

[Cullen]

Meala’s wings sliced the air in furious rhythm, her body naturally adjusting to the swirling cadence of Iralux beside her. She didn’t like it, her snarls were low and constant, but she tolerated it, sensing her rider’s tightly wound restraint.

Cullen barely turned his head as Leovold’s voice pierced the chaos, his words catching on the wind.

I detest you. But that doesn't mean we don't share a home...

Cullen exhaled sharply through his nose. It might have been a laugh if it wasn’t so bitter. Home..This city hadn't been his home since the minute his father drew his last breath. And Leovold and his father had been the cause of it. Cullen had lived on the outskirts, he had found some peace, some happiness, and even still Leovold succeeded in taking that from him too.

He didn't respond at first, his eyes were fixed on the grotesque two-headed beast in the distance, the ripple of its wings sending shockwaves through the air. But as Meala banked to follow Leovold’s callout, Cullen finally let words slip through gritted teeth.

"You share nothing, Solherre. You just take."

Then, with a sharp whistle, Meala surged ahead, a blur of molten gold and the kind of fury only the exiled could carry.

The dragon roared as Cullen leaned forward in the saddle, his body tight against her neck as they dipped low into a punishing dive, wind shrieking past their ears. Below them, the twin-headed behemoth loomed.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. He raised his spear, its haft wrapped in scorched leather, its point still glinting with the blood of the last foe. Meala's wings snapped shut and they plummeted, fire curling from her open jaws.

“Now,” Cullen murmured, and the dragon obeyed.

A furious blast of fire erupted from Meala’s mouth, a molten cone that lit up the sky and bathed the beast and its rider in flame. Cullen used the momentum of the dive, twisting in the saddle and hurling his spear with every ounce of strength in his body. It hurtled toward the Jarlax chief, aimed dead for the rider’s chest.

Then he was soaring past, Meala already banking hard to avoid the counter strike, the wind howling and the battlefield spinning away behind them. Cullen didn’t turn to see if the spear landed. He didn’t have time to as thick arrows flew up at them from the jarlax soldiers on the ground.