The Great Ones The Great Ones Beneath

[Gerra]

Frowning, Gerra looked at the blood coating the spear. What had Ashuanar said? Was this the dragon's blood then?

He removed a gauntlet and touched the dripping crimson, rubbing the ichor between his fingers. Perhaps if they could get this to a blood sorcerer in Thakath, then...

Suddenly, the giant scorpion scuttled toward Gerra. It held a body in its pincers. All thoughts of dragon blood left his mind and he hurried forward. As he recognized the body, his heart dropped and he fell to his knees in the sand before the scorpion.

"Maho," he rasped. Barely more than a whisper.

He took the body into his arms and felt a wetness in his eyes. His eyesight blurred and he wiped at it with a shoulder, smearing his face with sand.

"Maho."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia rode harder than she’d ever ridden before. The sands and winds were intense, and as Drakormir took flight, it was too much for her to keep the sands at bay. Her mount toppled, and she was thrown to the rough, unforgiving sands.

A steep, jagged shield erected itself before her from the very ground itself. @Medja’s magic was potent, and it very likely spared the priestess’ life, and the life force she carried within her. When the sands finally cleared she could see the great white titan streak across the sky. While it would no doubt bring horror wherever it went, she was glad to see it go.

She found her horse, shaken but alive, and mounted up once more. Her eyes were fixed ahead of her, on the great scorpion, and the unmistakable silhouette of the fire giant against the desert sun. She urged her horse onwards, and though blood dripped from its nose, it obliged.

She reached Gerra, Ashuanar, and Medja, still breathing heavily with adrenaline-fueled vigor.

“My King,” she said from ten paces away. She had met Gerra before, but she dared not assume familiarity at a time such as this, especially not amongst his closest Viziers. Her eyes fell across each of them in turn, and on the body in the Emperor’s arms. It must have been someone very important indeed.

She took a step forwards. “Permit me to help, your Majesty. If he yet lives, there may be a chance.” She did not know Maho’s story, nor if he even continued to breath, but she had the full life force of a soldier within her, more than enough to mend even the most grievous of injuries.

Then again, it had never been tested against a dragon, and Maho was no ordinary man.

| Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk Gerra Ashuanar Medja |

 

[Medja]

Tense muscles relaxed and focus diminished as the great sandstorm passed. Some of the barriers would likely crumble in the absence of her forcing them to stay in tact, but they had served their purpose. In the great dragon's absence, the Empire's ruling class would now need to pick up the pieces.

*ssssssSHUNK*
​

A blood-soaked spear struck the ground nearby, and Ashuanar delivered it to Medja in short order. Realization dawned upon the sorceress very quickly: The advent of the weapon was nothing less than a godsend, as it was the dragon's blood that coated it. Such a potent reagent could be used to augment a spell a hundred-- no, a thousand fold! Medja gingerly took the spear and pondered over it. This was likely the key they needed to felling the great beast.

She had been absorbed in thought for some moments until Kiia arrived and spoke up. She realized that the withered form of Maho lay before the Emperor, and that it would likely require a miracle to restore him. Whatever divine power had graced the man before had left him...Medja could've restored him with that technique if it came to it, but the priestess' arrival perhaps meant that she wouldn't have to reveal such a dark art for the time being.

That technique...the Siphon. She had never used it on a living thing before. The tomes had been explicit about the spell's use. When amplified by the blood of Drakormir, however...Medja bit her finger as she considered the consequences.

Medja waited for Gerra to finish grieving over Maho and reply to Kiia's offer, then presented her idea to the Emperor when she believed it tactful to do so.
"My Lord, I know that you are pained and that it may be difficult to think for the moment, but...with this," She presented the bloodied spear to the God-King. "I believe I may be able to kill that monster."

 

[Zachariah]

“What do you want? What do you have to gain from destroying those that may do your Queen’s bidding?”

The question caused the General to come to a slow stop in the carnage. His eyes swept about the field as if wondering what the easiest way to explain that the grass was green to a child was. After a moment he simply spread out his hands to the devastation around them.

Bhathairk was barely recognisable anymore. Where there had once been roads there were now rivers of lava. Houses that had formed small communities were ripped apart by fissures in the ground. Ash blotted the rising sun and waning moon from the sky so that nobody could tell whether it was day or night proper any longer. People screamed or wept. They lay dying. They curled up in corners as if their stone walls would still offer them some meagre protection.

"She needs no-one, especially not wretched fools like you," she didn't even need Zachariah. He knew that. He loved her for it, worshipped it. It was only whilst he proved entertaining and just useful and mad enough that she would keep him around.

Then the flame hit him.

Zachariah could control the flame the goddess breathed, he could even used her magic to a degree, but to have it thrown at him as an attack... well at the end of the day he was only human. He gave a sharp cry when it touched his armour heating it from the outside in. The scales were from Neha's own flesh and it was only her flame or that of her partners that would penetrate it. The fire licked up his body and destroyed the straps on the bag, causing the egg to clatter and roll into the carnage.

 

[Neha]

Neha wrote her name on Bhathairk's history books with her flame.

At least, the books which had somehow survived her attack.

It was hard to believe such a beast was a mother and had any such feelings but she did. Her attention turned sharply when she sensed her egg was in danger. The fire ceased and for a moment her attention was divided between destroying the city and protecting her child.

It was in that second of hesitation that one of the javelins pierced the flesh on the underside of her leg where she was missing scales. A screech that curdled blood filled the air and the dragons attention snapped back to the two at hand. She lurched herself down from the sky towards the pair with green flames flickering from her mouth.

 

[Xunari Auceus]

Her right arm was gone.

Phantom sensations of an arm that was no longer there were the least of her worries - she could still feel the burning that the flames had brought upon her... that she had amplified to strike back at her enemy. She had taken on the pain and the fury that had been unleashed at her and it had taken it's price.

Her right arm was gone.

It was going to make runes harder to do quickly, that much was for damned sure. Partially because two hands were quicker than one and partially because she was right handed. Or, well, she had been. Then flames and the rest was, as they say, history.

Her right arm was gone... but the sound of her enemy in pain made it worth it.

She laughed, a bitter and harsh sound that escaped without her conscious thought. It was probably the shock from the pain or maybe even a touch of blood loss before it was burned closed but either way, she was alive with pain and delight that she had caused her enemy a fraction of that same.

But in the end she didn't stay.

She trusted in her fellows to see to taking the advantage - she trusted that they would not let her down in this regard as she fled from this particular field of battle. Instead she rushed away not from danger at all but instead closer to the dragon, seeking to use heavier buildings for cover as she ran.

Xunari had seen the javelins fly and heard the sounds of a dragon in pain - that meant dragon's blood. With dragon's blood she could do more.

SO. MUCH. MORE.

 

[Alexios Marxan]

The dragon he was desperately clinging onto was bleeding, he'd seen a glimpse of it splashing out as it flew and landing onto the sands below. He was reasonably sure that whoever had made the blow was going to make someone a very happy, very reach or very powerful fuckwit.

Fuckwit because who else but a fuckwit stuck around a dragon the size of a city when it was wrecking shit just by existing?

Hell it hadn't even attacked them properly and it had managed to fuck over an entire (ancient) city and change the weather. What was that saying his dad used to tell him from some old book?

What could men do against such reckless hate?

Nah scrap that shit - what could men do against such destructive indifference?

The dragon didn't even fucking acknowledge their existence for the first half of it's time above ground after all. Some semi-divine intervention of a lucky, and powerful, shot with a lance or javelin had managed to cut the dragon and he was thankful for that. If nothing else it proved to him that this was not in vain.

That once he managed to stop focusing on not dying from being flung off a flying dragon, he might have a way to hurt it. He might not have pierced the scales himself but he would take the opening given to him.

Just as soon as the wind stopped being fast enough to almost pin him to said scales.

 

[Lazule]

The green flame slammed into Lazule's Shield of Light. Warped around it in the manner of a rock diverting the flow of a raging river. It held, with Lazule's Luminomancy able to feed off of the light produced by the fire itself--less potent than pure daylight, but sufficient. Sufficient, but taxing to maintain against such withering force. Lazule felt the warmth inside his chest, where his Life Fire--his true self--resided in the body of the Unknown Warrior. This warmth increasing. It would be as it had been when he had fought against the Amalgamation: his internal heat would eventually become great enough to rupture and destroy his organs and flesh. Even the psuedo state of undeath of Unknown Warrior's body could not endure it, and his body would be rendered permanently nonfunctional if too much damage was sustained.

But Lazule had more to give yet. Through the roaring flames he could not see Erën. He could only trust that he was alright, that the same was true of him. The weight of lives, of Retribution, rested on their shoulders.

And a voice spoke in Lazule's mind.

You dare raise a weapon against me?!

The voice of the monster.

No reply, spoken aloud or otherwise, came from Lazule. He had grown curious as to the state of mind of certain monsters since his Breaking and subsequent Reforged Way of Being. He had no such curiosity this day. These two dragons did not have the sanctity of personhood. They were beneath all charitable consideration. They were excluded from the dignity of acknowledgement. They retained nothing of value within the vile caricatures that served as their minds and their hearts. They were entities of pure malevolence, embodiments of cruelty, as opposed to living creatures. They were fit only to be slaughtered without mercy, trophies severed from their bodies and erected into shrines as recompense for their innumerable victims.

Against them everything was permissible. Against them all violence was righteous.

The mass grave for the monstrous awaited their slain corpses. And it was Lazule's holy duty to deliver them.

The green flames subsided, but the Golden Dragon burst forth from the ground, more flames primed within Its mouth. And in that split second Lazule could see Erën, see that he had been burned badly from the fire of the Black Dragon. The brow of the Unknown Warrior raised up behind his helm, eyes widening.

Then more flame. Another withering assault before Lazule could so much as take a step toward Erën. Once again all the world around him became a tunnel of streaming fire, warping around his Shield and taxing his Luminomancy to keep it active.

He needed to do something. Forced behind his Shield, Lazule knew that he would eventually overheat from within, if not from without. His armor was made of living stone and forged metal and arcane crystal--it could resist for a time. Certainly enough time to hurl another Javelin.

So Lazule arched his right hand up and back. Conjured another Javelin of Light, the magic crackling in his hand. And he swung his Shield arm off to the side and weathered some of the Golden Dragon's fire directly against his armor and threw the Javelin toward the source of the flames. Praying that his aim was true. Praying that the Javelin did not explode before it could reach his foe.

He could not see the approach of the Black Dragon.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Sepheron Neha

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

As he lay there, bathing in his own anguish, accepting his fate, he saw yet another gargantuan creature loom above him, a blur in the wind as it picked him up, unable to resist or complain.

He couldn't believe how scared he was. Not long ago he gave his life in reckless abandon, delivering every ounce of power he had into the fiery blast, to no avail. Yet now, stripped of his mask, his arms, his strength, he was afraid to die.

He wasn't ready to.

As he faded in and out of consciousness, his eyes opened to see Gerra's eyes, an inferno eternally burning within them. He looked into them with terror and fear. His head leant down, coughing blood up on himself, feeling the strain of his life.

"Gherrra... I dhon't wghant to die..." His voice trembled like a child's.

And in that moment, he'd accepted the extent he was willing to go to stay alive, struck in the eyes of Gerra of Molthal. He'd do anything.

 

[Celestia]

A few moments ticked by before Celestia’s eyes began to blink. With a soft groan, she slowly began to get up, feeling the familiar warmth of healing magic. As a healer, she knew the comfortable embrace that came from being bathed in it. She slowly turned to gaze upon the….man? She couldn’t quite make out what the figure was, but it didn’t appear more than a shadow. Whoever it was, they had taken the time to heal her. Her wings flapped with rejuvenated strength, and she pushed herself up to stand on her feet.

“Thank you,” She muttered quietly in the common tongue as she gazed at the figure, “How….how did you know my name?” Celestia’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, trying to make out what he was. The Avariel then turned towards the direction of the Imperial forces, all of them rallying around their leader. She had no idea her spear had struck true and landed back on the ground, coated in the dragon’s blood.

Celestia shook her head and sighed, “It’s too late. There’s no stopping it. My blade didn’t hurt it and neither did my spear,” She looked defeated, her grip on the hilt of her blade growing slack as she gazed in the direction the dragon took flight.

Tenrof

 

[Tereth Adathar]

He emerged to see... was that Celestia? Either that or every one of her species looked the same. Beside her was something else he didn't recognize, but he overheard their exchanged words as he drew closer.

This... might, he said, holding up the spear for both of them to see as he drew closer.

Celestia, take it! Before the creature strikes again! he all but shouted throwing it to her but avoiding letting the tip stab or otherwise injure her. He knew he didn't have wings or the capacity to get to the creature now that it had flown away.

Tenrof

 

[Gerra]

The voice that rose from those cracked lips sent a chill down Gerra's spine. A voice filled with terror and pain. A voice that gargled in its own blood. Gerra's hands trembled beneath Maho as he cradled the charred and twisted body of his friend. Skin and clothing had charred together, an indistinguishable mass of flaking black and oozing red, with the brilliant white of bone horrifically gleaming through it all.

Eyes standing wide, Gerra looked up at those surrounding him. The Abtati priestess offered her help. Heedless of the price, Gerra nodded numbly.

"Save him, whatever it takes." He brushed a tear stain from Maho's face with a trembling thumb, then slowly set him down on the sand. His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell with the rapid intake of breath as he backed away from Maho's body to let the priestess do what she could.

He barely heard Medja's words, face barren as a desert stone as he accepted the spear into his hands. Once more he looked at the blood slicking the blade. The blood of the dragon who had left Maho shattered. A dragon who would no doubt do the same to each and every city in Amol-Kalit if left the chance. Even Aivrid could not stand against such a behemoth. Perhaps it could have been reasoned with... his gaze moved from the dragon to Maho's body... but that time had passed. Gerra's fingers curled around the spear haft until they bled white.

When he looked back to Medja, his eyes burned like the mouths of two roaring forges, fueled by seething fury, and he uttered a single word filled with such vehemence and spite that it seemed to sear the very air with its utterance.

"How?"

 

[Celestia]

Celestia was distracted when she heard her name once more, turning to spot a familiar face. Her eyes went wide in surprise when she saw Tereth, and she glanced at the spear in his hand.

“I already tried! Spears don’t-” She pivoted to the side as the spear came flying, but her hand jerked up to snatch it out of the air. She stared at the spear, a hum of strength reverberating from it. Whatever this was, it was not...natural. It didn’t feel like a simple weapon like the other spear she had thrown.

There was no time to think. With a nod, she offered a faint smile to Tereth, “Be safe… humans can be so very foolish,” The irony of what she was about to do wasn’t lost on her.

She took a few steps back and pressed off the ground, a powerful push of her wings carrying her up into the air. Celestia could make out the faint outline of the dragon in the distance, and she made a beeline straight for it with spear in hand.

Perhaps this attempt would prove fruitful.

Kara Orin

 

[Medja]

"How?"

Medja felt her mouth dry and her tongue catch in her throat. This was her greatest secret, forbidden knowledge that she had kept hidden for centuries. Gerra's searing gaze made her reconsider telling him, if only for a second, but her resolve overcame fear. It was already too late to back out now, anyways.

"The dragon's blood paints the tip of that spear. The blood of a creature that powerful, that ancient, would make any properly prepared spell powerful beyond your wildest imagination...but..." She explained, trailing off apprehensively. She folded her arms across her chest and placed her fingers on her temple, thinking as she continued. "To kill a dragon, especially one of that size, is no easy feat. The spell we empower with this blood would have to one of incredible magnitude to begin with."

Resolve filled her once again. She did not care for the consequences. For the first time in her life Medja had a home and friends that she cared for, and she would not see them destroyed. Drakormir was a threat to existence as she knew it. She would not cradle those she cared for in her arms as they died as Gerra did now.

"I have studied under the teachings of the Great Sage of Geomancy, Aramekh. I know a spell which could kill the titan if I use its blood as fuel. I need only be in contact with it for about a minute for it to work."
-In theory.- She left out. She wasn't sure that it would work as intended on a dragon, but...it was an ancient being which had been one with the earth for untold millennia. It must have been for it to have been buried undetected beneath Amol-Kalit for so long. All things were connected to the earth, especially this behemoth, and if that were true then the Siphon should work.

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia stepped forwards quickly, her feet light on the sand. These people, they radiated power both physical and social. The way they carried themselves, even in the face of despair, was obvious. Kiia had always sought to be amongst such people, but here in the ruins of the dragon's wings she could not help but feel small.

She knelt next to Maho. He truly was a ruin of a person, and Kiia was not certain how much she could actually achieve. She placed a hand on his chest, another on his belly, and pressed gently. With her eyes closed she could feel the ebbing lifeforce within him, and it was faint. Hardly a trickle was left. Her face creased when she felt something... odd. It was not the usual emptiness of the dying body... more like a vacancy of spirit, like something had been removed that would never return. She tried not to focus too hard on it, instead concentrating on what she must do. Exhaling steadily, she pushed the lifeforce from her core and down her arms, sending it radiating from her palms into Maho's body.

Once it left her hands, the energy tended to go where it was needed most, although she did give it a few nudges in the right direction. The heart came first, for it would send the healing light coursing through the veins. The mind, especially in such fearful circumstances as this, would also need immediate attention.

More, more, and more lifeforce entered the pyromancer. She had rarely taken the entirety of another person's spirit, it was seldom needed. It would be a lie to say she hadn't been motivated by fear at the sight of the great dragon, to say she thought that Gerra's armies had stood a chance. At least the soldier's life would not be lost in vain, like so many strewn across the sand. At least his death would give someone a second chance. Judging from how greedily Maho's body soaked up her gifts, the sacrifice appeared necessary.

"Come back," she whispered to the broken man by her knees. "It is not your time yet."

She straightened up, lifting her hands from his skin. She had done all she could. It was up to Maho now.

 

[Kara Orin]

And just like that, the unnamed Ancient Blood Spear was passed to Celestia. Yet as Celestia flew toward the dragon, she would see the torrent of sandstorms that trailed behind it. In addition, the colossal dragon easily traversed the continent faster than beings far, far smaller.

---

For Alexios, the chance for the wind to die down did not come. The dragon continued to fly east – eventually crossing the Baal-Duru. He could witness the destruction in the trail of the dragon. Fortunately, it flew north of Thakath and spared it from destruction. Yet small villages and farmland directly the beneath the dragon did not fare as well. The gusts of wind from its beating wings shredded the village’s buildings. At least for Alexios, the journey would soon end once the dragon reaches Elbion.

The dragon seemed to still be in full health, though. The bleeding from its ear ceased already. In fact, compared to its body size it seemed to have barely bled at all. A crimson stain remained near the ear, though.

---

Fortunately for the Elbion expedition, Zier displayed a possible way to keep pace with the dragon. However, it seemed as if only two people could join Zier on the journey.

Kara approached and declared, “I’ll go.”

However, Maester Awano immediately dismissed this.

“No, you’re only a student,” Awano told Kara, “Professor Sitim and I will go. Maester Noa will take my place.”

Kara glared at Awano with a seething rage.

Maester Awano was the most senior mage here. Professor Sitim was a skilled elementalist and could hold his own with offensive magical spells. And Kara was barely two years into her studies. Even if Kara did something to force Awano’s hand, would Zier even allow her to go over a Maester or Professor?

If nothing was done by Zier or Zarko, Zier would be accompanied by a Third Level Maester and professor back to Elbion.

---

Moments passed after Gerra touched the dragon’s blood.

[……………………………………]​

The power in the blood remained. Still wet, fresh. Yet being coated thinly on a spear, it was at risk of drying.

For those familiar with using blood for magic, this would not mean the power within it would be gone. Especially since it came from a titanic dragon. Yet it would wane.

The longer they delayed action, the less power that would be available on the spear and the more damage Drakormir will inflict upon Elbion.

The Empire Elbion College

 

[Tenrof]

He tempered his voice as to not cause any discord in this newly arrived human's mind and spirit. Kthell and Kouri were exceptions because of what they were, but any other species would experience a migraine that would only increase with prolonged exposure. At worst, the man would be bleeding from the nose and comatose. Still, the sheer depth and baritone of his voice made it seem more demonic than anything.

Rising to his feet, strapping the amulet back at his side, he turned in the rapidly fading dragon's distance, as the woman took flight and left him behind in the dust. He would join her in pursuing the dragon, and perhaps with far more luck in catching up to it.

"My apologies if my actions are suspicious." he began. "But against a wyrm of such size, all hands were needed. And I saw she was one of the few who injured the beast, as the gathering far yonder can attest."

He had nearly missed the weapon in his own pursuit of the winged one's fall, but even at the current distance, he could make out the blood-red hue of life-liquid staining the weapon. It could indeed bleed, which meant it suffered a dragon's weaknesses, compounded by its size. But it also enhanced its strengths, and magnitude of influence.

Still, he thought himself concerned over virtually nothing. He had imagined with such a size, even its underbelly's skin would be tougher than steel.

"What is the weapon you gave her? And perhaps, is it related to the threat we now face?"

Tereth Adathar

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Something was drastically wrong.

It went beyond his physical body. He'd been crippled before. He'd been burnt. He'd been crushed. Yet as the healers hands began to let life flow through his veins, his muscles awakening to the flow of energy moving through his body, he felt hollow. He could feel his soul struggle to cling to his body, as if his very life force were being prevented from being confined within his body.

The sensation of his voice was coming back to him, as he fought with the pain coursing through his body, fought off by the efforts of Kiia. The burns began to ease, as sinews found shape, and flesh tied together. As he concentrated, he mustered enough power to reanimate his left arm, the grains of sand finding their form again.

It is not your time yet.​

It's not me time yet, it's not my time yet...

"I want to help... I can help..." He pushed through the coughs that now littered his speech infrequently.

Unfortunately, he knew he was in no state to.

 

[Karanon Ulventhral]

Shaerra knew that something was wrong. The way was wrong. Tired. Less breathing. But she didn't have the strength to go around to Karanon's other side and push him back. It was a desperate thing she did next. A thing she only did in the hopes that it would rouse the drow from unconsciousness. She raised her chelicerae high, and making sure to hold her venom back so that it was only a warning style bite, she slammed them drown into his side.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!"

Well, that did trick. Agony, flames and heat filled his senses as he coughed and twisted. Shaerra jumped a foot of the ground in celebration before touching him gently and then pulling him in the safe direction. And he seemed to understand. Because he began to crawl in that direction. And as soon as he could breathe better, he got up. The standing was slowly achieved due to the pain in his leg. But he knew at once that the worst thing he could try to do was remove the bolt. He looked around and saw his crossbow laying on the ground. And he picked It up and loaded it.

Perhaps he had suffered a brain injury when he hit the ground. Perhaps he had finally had enough aggression commited against him by females in order to snap. Or perhaps some inner drow instinct commanded him to take revenge. Whatever the cause, he was so fucking done. He was pissed. And the pain from his injuries only amplified his rage. He hated this dragon. He finally could process what was happening enough to know that now. Even if he was the size of a small house spider to her, he would make sure to put some venom in his own bite.

The drow didnt have any venom or poison but he recalled how Commander Tor'Rahel had had once commanded her archers to fire flaming arrows at the enemy forces. And there was certainly an abundance of flame to be found in Bhathairk tonight. Seething with fury he set about sending it back at the beast.

Shaerra looked at him with something that might be interpreted as awe while he walked over to the flame and caught his crossbow bolt ablaze with the dragon's own fire. And then he took aim, which was incredibly easy with a target as big as she was. And then he pulled the trigger and sent a bolt covered in her own fire against the dragon goddess. Again he didn't wait to see what happened. He just reloaded, caught a new bolt on fire and sent it after her as well. With the energy Karanon had, it looked as if he might just keep going through these motions long after the 17 bolts he had left were used up.

Neha

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx watched Xunari’s attacks succeed as she managed to divert the dragon’s flame over the champion. Vyx would see to it that her sacrifice earned her place in rank if they made it out alive. The heat melted through the champion's scaled armor, and she could hear the tortured screams from the man.

So he was not a god.

A twisted smile spread across her face beneath her helmet as she watched the man contort in agony. She glanced over at Zathria.

“Protect the egg! Ensure it goes back underground!” She shouted in drow before turning back on the dragon’s champion. Vyx rushed towards the man while he was still reeling from the flames, using her broken blade to jam it up and under his jaw in an attempt to pry off his helmet.

She spared only a moment’s glance to notice the beast master firing arrows through dragon fire. The brilliance of the tactic was apparent at once, and she gave a command that was considered unfathomable in drow society.

“ALL ARCHERS! YOU ARE HENCEFORTH UNDER THE COMMAND OF THE BEASTMASTER!” She hadn’t taken the time to learn his name - he was a man, after all - but he had caught her attention and won her respect this day. Men and women alike would be his to command in joining his efforts.

Karanon Ulventhral Zathria At'Arel Zachariah

 

[Tereth Adathar]

Be careful, he said as Celestia began to launch after the dragon. He didn't like it and he would have liked to follow her, but he wasn't a flyer and his horse could only move so quickly.

Tereth didn't know what the... person before him was, but it seemed to be an ally. He could worry about it later once the death and violence was over. When the dragon was defeated... if it was defeated.

It drains whatever it impales, he told the shadow man. He wasn't sure if it would even manage to make it through the creature's scales, but if it did, he trusted it would kill the beast.

If only he could have read the writing within the caverns or knew someone who could.

We need to follow that creature, he said to the man, looking over and whistling for his horse.

Tenrof

 

[Alexios Marxan]

Alexios was getting absolutely sick of this method of travel - humans were not meant to travel this quickly - and that was a very literal sensation. He twisted to one side, coughing and spluttering as his stomach protested the speed and the force of the wind. Thankfully said wind also made clean up a non-issue, though Alexios was able to see that he had been throwing up at least some blood.

It was probably mostly blood honestly.

He couldn't see over the side of the dragon's neck because said neck was thiiiiiick. But he could see the horizon and he was able to use that to tell where they were... and they were getting close to Elbion. What would have taken him a few days to a week on a horse had taken the dragon barely ten minutes.

Probably less actually and it just felt longer because of how long he had been pressured by the wind. It was one of those situations that felt so much worse during it, drawing out the sensation of time by sheer weight of how unpleasant it was.

Reaching down, Alexios began to work at one of the hard scales of the dragon. It was a sharp-edged scale but it was barely the size of Alexios' fist which meant it was like tearing off a skin cell from the dragon. It had been loose anyway which was, honestly the only reason he was able to take it.

It looked like a giant shark's tooth but a thousand times tougher and sharper.

Just needed... molding.

Flushing the scale with heat, he drew his knife with his other hand and began to sharpen it. His dagger was, at this stage, kind of warped from the damage done just by using it against the under-scales but this was one top-scale. Top scale was stronger than his knife when it wasn't being heated up by his power to make it more malleable.

He was making himself a knife out of something tougher than his steel, something so tough that the dragon itself used it for attack and defense... still a bit fucking weird to be making a shiv out of his opponent's skin.

But he was miles up in the sky riding a dragon the size of a city that didn't know/care he was riding it.

Weird was kind of the theme of the day.

 

[Sepheron]

​

The fire continued to spill forth out of his mouth freely as the ground that had been torched by the green flames were now reignited by his orange fire. The temperature would only get hotter and hotter as the stream of fire continued to collide against Lazule's shield. However, when he saw the glint of the javelin and hurled it at him, Sepheron extinguished the flames and caught the weapon with his mouth as his head turned slightly with the force of it.

The dragon whipped his head back to Lazule, the javelin burning in between his teeth as his gaze leveled on the man. He snapped the weapon in half with his teeth but his goal had been achieved, he had stopped him from continuing to unleash fire upon him. Now, we play. Sepheron dragged himself out of the dirt, his hooks sinking into the earth as he heaved his massive body out and towered over Lazule, the shadow of his head and neck casting over him. His mouth opened to reveal a row of teeth that could cut through metal. As quickly as he opened his mouth, he shut it, his head snapping to the left as he sensed Neha descending right toward them.

Sepheron flapped his wings to create a cloud of dust and dirt before launching himself into the air. He continued to gain altitude until he was safely in the air. The dragon turned around and remained in place in the sky as he peered down at the javelin thrower and where Neha would land.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

His foot slid, his stance deepening.

His skin, burned.

Beneath his rage, pain filled his eyes. ​

Then a breath came. The green fire vanished, and a cool breeze brushed past. Weakened, the Pillar cracked with the relief - a relief that was all too short lived. Before them, the golden dragon erupted from the ground, and again hurled fiery breath toward them.

A flake chipped off the Pillar,

and then another,

the cracks spread.

And then like a mirror it shattered into jagged pieces of light, and was taken by the force of the flame.

And when it was over, Erën was no longer by Lazule's side...​

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria had been near magma underground before. She'd seen cities lit by rivers of lava, but the heat that now consumed the city was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

The beastmaster seemed more cunning than most. He found an opportunity to turn the creature's power against it, and Zathria had to admit she was impressed. The mage did well also, and for the first time, it seemed as if the drow were making a difference.

The city practically melted under the flames that now consumed it, but those flames seemed to work both ways. She looked for an opportunity to assist in the defeating the creature, searching for a bow when the fires turned against the dragon's avatar, she saw her opportunity.

Without hesitation, she lunged after the egg. She knew that it would practically dwarf her in size, but she couldn't waste the opportunity to gain the prize and hopefully a means of leverage over the monster that lay before them.

She knew, however, that the city was lying in carnage and burned. Finding and reaching the egg likely wouldn't be easy, but she hoped that in her difficulty, if Zachariah followed her, he would find it no easier.

Sheathing her sword, she took the plunge into the carnage, a wary eye open to avoid being melted alive.