The Great Ones The Great Ones Beneath

[Alexios Marxan]

He heard the words ring through his mind and felt them impact upon his very soul... if he was feeling charitable about his own ability to retain one of those anyway. Regardless, the words came to him and he embraced them. Closing his eyes, he whispered the words.

"May My fire consume those that threaten My Children."

It didn't matter that it was whispered because it was shared between himself and the Dragon he had accepted as above himself. Grunting, he felt a lance of pain shoot through his mind until he could feel it.

The knowledge was there.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, Alexios nodded to the people who had come to him. They wanted to warn him or send him on his way? No, not while there was still a threat that needed to be dealt with. There may be an Emperor before Drakormir but he was content to let that threat resolve itself.

What was an Emperor before a God after all?

But one thing else stood out, one thing else needed to die as far as he was concerned. He marched toward the mass of black ooze and eyes. It threatened him, though perhaps not the dragon but it was still something that needed to be eradicated.

Blue flames, dragonfire by any other name, sprang up along both of his arms as he approached where the ice made and an armoured man stood, battling the thing.

"I've got the two hundred eyes on the right."

Launching both arms forward, he launched twin streams of the blue fire, directing them to burn out the eyes before moving them on to different eyes. The eyes were a weak point but with these flames he doubted he would even need weak points - but there was no reason not to indulge in some overkill.

Milo Vox Focraig'Diin

 

[Sepheron]

​

Sepheron could see everything from the air and he had expected Neha to land down on the two vermin and end them right then and there. But the complete opposite happened and the dragon's leg was instead ripped off of her completely and her blood flowed through the streets of the destroyed city and threatened to swallow everything whole if they didn't move. Before it could even be accounted for, she had a new leg and flew off with her egg in hand.

He peered down at the two who attacked them and saw the human slave begin to attack the two. There were more important things at hand and he would let them spill each other's blood. With Neha leaving, that meant she would be returning to reunite with her mate eventually and the thought of that made his scales ripple. The reason he had claimed the Underrealm was because he despised the politics of his species and avoided it altogether. Sepheron wasn't going to let the two take over once more as he had already paid his dues for it.

With a powerful flap of his wings, the golden dragon took off into the sky and after the massive dragon. She may have been huge but that meant he could easily catch up to her as he continued to propel himself forward. In a short amount of time, he would spot her in front of him with her massive wings heaving herself forward. When Sepheron began to close the distance between them, he called out to her, Neha.

However, he didn't stay on his normal flight path and instead shot straight into the air with a powerful push from his wings and disappeared into the clouds above. A few moments later, a black and golden mass would be diving from above her and aimed straight for her head. Neha being massive made her quite an easy target and if he connected, Sepheron's entire mass would slam directly into the side of her head as he would sink his hooks into her to latch on.

As he unfolded himself, he would be directly over her eye as his molten orange pair would stare directly into it. He instantly opened his mouth and let flames spill from it freely and into her one eye to burn it completely if he could. It was dragon fire wholely and the The dragon would only maintain the fire for a few more seconds before he would push off her face and start to put some distance between them.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

...it was really only a few seconds.

The ground beneath him trembled as the severed limb crashed, and within the wreckage beyond the pairs' sight, Erën perceived a terrible happening. With the gift of his hearing, the sound of terrible fear fell upon his ears, and cries of dismay and grief - and death. And then, as if by another's command, his once so well guarded consciousness reached forth and touched against those within, bearing witness to the sorrows caused by Neha's foul blood.

Horrible fears and twisted visions came to him, and he saw broken images of those dearly maimed, rise again in anger - striking out at mother and child, brother and father and friend alike.

Running from them.

Crying.

They drew around him, drawn in by some other force and whirled around his mind and tormented him with their pain, their anguish. And were it not for his resolve, he'd have wept. But instead, he turned himself cold to whatever now lay before, whatever now must be done...

… then, something else drew near, and it cut through the horrid anguish that twisted around him...

...

H a t e

C l a n g !
​

Erën's eyes had just barely intercepted his coming, but had found him just then as Zackariah attacked Lazule. Erën took one step back, and with his second step turned his foot, and beheld their new attacker. This man before them may have been human, or elf even, but he was certainly no ally - he struck out against Lazule. And by association, against him as well. Both who had clearly stood against the destructive force of this colossal evil who tore and raged through the sky even now. No... this black knight had sealed his fate in deciding to cross blades with him this night.

Lazule spoke to him, beseeching him to repent of his action against them, and see the dark dragon above as the enemy. A curious act, he observed now: Lazule had blatantly been assaulted, and during a trial as great as this there was no time. Perhaps Lazule was more fatigued than Erën could detect, or perhaps, given his wounds and the pain he toiled with... vice versa. But something drove him, compelled him to act.

"Please do not make me kill you."

​

Hesitation.

A lapse, and a potentially fatal one, on Lazule's part. Indeed it fell to Erën then, he who was not willing to suffer another assault so willingly. As he advanced he drew his sword across his hip, saying,

"No, this one is beyond respite," and he swung his sword at Zackariah.

Lazule | Zachariah​

 

[Kara Orin]

As fire flew toward the eyed black ooze, bystanders in the Port District began to feel sick. Gerra sought to use the lives of everything around him to have the power to slay Drakormir.

However, that in itself would be an act of magic – no different than the ring’s own intended effects. Were those that collapsed willing to shed their blood for the Emperor, it might be different. That or similar to typical sacrifices, their throats slit for Gerra to use their blood for power.

This was just as if a massive death spell. A price had to be paid for that effect as well.

The ring would hum even more vigorously as Gerra continued. Time to sustain this effect or use the ring’s actual purpose drew near a close. Drakormir’s maw approached Gerra to consume the Emperor – giving even less time for him to think on how to act.

If Gerra spoke the word, something still had to be given to spare his own life. With the sheer size and power of Drakormir, there would be no way for Gerra to gauge if anything would be enough for the Ring of Ren to cast without drastic consequences to himself, the city, or the world.

Do you say the word?

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria pursued the egg into the carnage, but before she could reach it, she saw the dragon moving into position. The diving dragon left Zathria's eyes wide and she scrambled into the overhang of a building that had collapsed in the flames. The fires were still nearly scalding even from the other side of the building, but she knew it was better than being snatched or squished by the dragon.

The blood that sprayed from the wound had landed outside, and she could see others nearby who had been coated in it screaming in agony and pain as they were... killed? It was difficult to say at first, but something in her soul told her that it was something far worse than death.

For her part, Zathria found herself once more enraged that her quarry had been snatched from her grasp. Drow - and particularly Zathria - didn't take failure well whether it was in others or in herself. The fact that she was competing against a dragon the size of a mountain wasn't relevant.

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx watched the plague rapidly spread throughout the dead, the bodies rising as part of some sick army. The drow took a few steps back, grimacing at the display. She looked over at the orcs from the city that were still alive and entirely confused on what to do. In an unprecedented move, Vyx decided to call one of her direct reports.

“Get the orcs to shelter in the Underrealm!” She was met with a look of surprise, but it was quickly replaced with obedience. The female drow quickly rushed and ushered the orc survivors towards the Underrealm. Vyx turned her focus back to the turned. She had worked out that touching them was likely to result in death.

Instead, Vyx looked around, spotting a few lanterns on a nearby wagon. She grabbed a few and hurled them towards the crowds of Turned. After that, Vyx drew out her bow, nocking two arrows and lining them up against a leftover flame of dragonfire. She aimed and fired, sending the arrows into the oil that was spilled from the lanterns by the Turned. This would result in a massive inferno.

“Spread that fire!” She shouted out to the mages. Vyx stepped back to allow for distance, not too keen on touching the beings. Along the way, she snatched up Zachariah’s helmet which had been knocked off. She glanced over at the other drow, "KEEP THE DRAGON GROUNDED!"

Neha Velathina T'sarran Zathria At'Arel Lythrani Undraeth

 

[Kiia Sidra]

You would willingly follow someone who tried to kill you for no reason?

“He is my Emperor,” she said with a practiced tone. It was a dramatic oversimplification, but one that would serve her well should any eavesdropping ears be nearby. “People do terrible things in anger.”

She was glad that he took the items, he looked as though he could use some comfort in life. He was the sort of man who shied away from such things, she suspected, the sort of man who put others before himself and who pursued lofty ideals of justice and honor. It was a very rough guess from a short interaction, but he had proven himself selfless in that time.

“May Abtatu bless you. I am certain the winds will bring us together at least once more.”

She wasn’t certain, but it didn’t hurt to offer a kind word. Unfortunately she had no more energy to give him, so her gold would need to suffice as her only payment. As he left, she looked after him. Such a nice young man, it was a shame that he would almost certainly die.

She looked around the place as a pair of healers attended to her. They were gentle with her leg but it still pained her greatly to have it touched or moved. They tried their best, but that particular wound would take far more skill to mend.

The rest of her injuries, however, were fixed up wonderfully. By the time they had finished she was feeling quite refreshed. Her hunger and thirst had been satisfied, and fine oils had rubbed away the sting of the dry desert air.

She wasn’t going anywhere for a while, may as well do what she could. She looked around for a plant, or perhaps some rats, anything with life to give. There were others here in need of help, and that was something she could do.

 

[Neha]

​

The Dead Rose.

At first they looked confused as the last few moments of their life flashed before their eyes and then their eyes were no longer their own. They reflected instead the dragon in the skies above them and became the living flame. They cared only for destruction and the need to touch. To infect more people. To spread the gospel truth that Neha was a Goddess who needed to be worshipped and wept at the sight of. If the Ash hadn't touched you, then a touch by one of these foul creatures would be just as bad.

Unbeknown to Sepheron, Neha had not in fact been aiming to return to her mate.

Not that she would get a chance to explain her real motives which was to return to the city she knew was safe in order to raise her young. Instead, the golden dragon slammed into the side of her head as arrows fired up at her. They passed through the odd black leg as though it were made of smoke. It oozed like slime, parting and then reforming, mutating. But as the golden dragon shot his flame towards her at the same time arrows pierced it, her twisted limb fell away again and with it the egg she had been clutching.

It fell into the oozing lava rivers and began to float along.

Neha snarled and twisted her body. Despite her size she was relatively fast and now her anger was focused on the golden dragon. Green flames shot from her mouth towards the smaller reptile and her tail lashed out towards him before he could get too far out of her long reach.

 

[Zachariah]

​

Zachariah's sword should have cut through the shield but it... it did not. The light countered the dark and twisted magic that Neha had used to forge his weapon. There was a moment where something flickered over his face; doubt? Concern? It disappeared and was replaced with determination. Finally. An opponent worth fighting. He pulled back for a brief moment and took in the other fighter who approached, swung....

The Black Knight's sword came up sharply to counter the strike, swung and pushed back with some force in an attempt to throw off his balance.

He didn't need to look up at the sky to know what was happening with Neha, he could feel it. He knew she would be of no help to him on the ground in this moment but he could at least eliminate these threats. Green fire burned everywhere he looked and his hand stretched out, drawing on her magic just a little, to bring it to his hands. In a whip the fire flew towards both Lazule and Eren'thiel Xyrdithas.

 

[Milo Vox]

The black ooze had been frozen, spiced, and now properly roasted, but still it stood in its way – blinking its eyes. Milo blinked right back. This was useless.

Chaos continued to ensue around him. People crying out, desperately trying to flee the scene, only to recoil as they encountered the dragon’s massive form, the beast having touched down to give personal attention to Gerra .

And then, the refugees, they fell. Exhausted, ill. Bodies, formerly in motion, suddenly sapped of their will to persist, tumbling lifelessly along the ground.

Milo went to speak, but then his eyes widened.

He could sense it. A vision arrested his mind. Sunlight, dropped like liquid into a pool of black, rippling outwards – as a stone thrown into a lake. He knew exactly where the evil lay, in every incarnation: From Alexios’s selfish powergrab, to the ooze of eyeballs directly before him; to Ring of Ren’s theft of vitae, to the dragon whom one barely needed senses at all to perceive.

A new Triage. The mages could handle the ooze.

Milo experienced vertigo as he finally sought to behold the beast, his gaze looking upwards at the unfathomable mass that hung overhead, threatening to block out the sun. It was almost as if he were on drugs as his gaze traced its form all the way to the leg that had rooted itself in the harbor like some ancient tree. Like 50 ancient trees.

And the denizens of Elbion continued to fall. It wore on one’s psyche.

He had to do something…but what was he supposed to do?

Dazed, Milo reached into his wound at his side, gasping through the pain as he wriggled his finger around the over sized splinter and tore it from his body – blood vomited out from the pit to stain his tabard, the ground. He looked upon the splinter for a moment, detached – It barely made sense that this was once in his body.

There was nothing anyone could do, really.

There was the clattering of steel against the cobblestone; a weapons barrel knocked loose, spilling daggers and swords originally designated for an oceanic voyage across the ground.

So, anything, no matter how stupid, seemed as good an idea as anything else.

Milo picked up two of the daggers and stepped toward where the dragon’s foot was perched, looking up to where all the detail disappeared into the shadow of the rest of its body.

He has attempted to be clever with the spices on the ooze, and it did not quite pan out.

With a grunt and a leap, Milo plunged the daggers into the beast’s leg, aiming for the crevices between scales to find purchase and leverage should he fail to puncture. He would attempt to climb it, one stab at a time.

May as well get a little crazy.

Kara Orin Alexios Marxan Focraig'Diin

 

[Xunari Auceus]

Xunari had been a busy little bee after dropping back to deal with the loss of her arm. She might have lost an arm but she was one of those lucky mage-types that didn't need to be whole to perform her magic. Sure, having both arms would be nice but she didn't need them both to achieve what she wanted.

Dragging the point of her shield in the ash and dirt, she began drawing a large runic array. Not around the dragon or even the metal servant of the dragon either but around a large building that was currently on fire. It was, quite frankly, awash with the green fire of the creature.

She had already drawn the runic array around two smaller building with similar flames and now she was connecting them to the bigger one with a rather manic grin. Xunari usually enjoyed her art but when it was against such foes she adored it even more.

The two smaller arrays were power draining arrays and the larger one was similar to the one that had been on her right arm. A redirection and amplification array. If she had been trying to use the power of the dead or other lives it would likely not work, or at least be resisted. But the fire was merely a source of energy both heat and magic at this point - it had no will and no soul to resist the pull.

Slamming her remaining hand on the array she activated it with barely any of her own magic - because the two smaller arrays were the power. The heat and the magical energy of the green fire burning through two buildings was sucked into the array to power the larger one. Flames in the smaller two buildings were flicker and wane as the flames in the larger building grew stronger.

Amplified.

All of it aimed squarely at the object of her festering, boiling, hatred. She turned and calibrated the output of the runic array before slamming her hand down on the activation.

As with her arm, the runic array amplified and redirected the dragonfire from the building in a direction of her choosing. She aimed it squarely at the man, Zachariah . Once more a powerful blast of the green flames would shoot at him by her will, this time at least twice as large as the one she had sacrificed her arm for. With him distracted with someone else she was hopeful she would catch him off-guard with her blast.

 

[Alexios Marxan]

A drain... something was draining the bystanders, the locals. It seemed, to his mind, that something was occurring. Something was pulling magic and life from the people nearby and that would kill these people far quicker than any ooze.

His fire attack had yet to fully land and do any meaningful damage to the ooze but what good would defending these people do if those same people were then destroyed by something else? Something that was draining them of life... a death spell?

Would the mages of Elbion really do such a thing?

Of course one thing he could see as trying to threaten the dragon was the giant titan of magic and sand and green energy that had appeared. He didn't know who or what had summoned the being but he knew that something that big, that obviously powerful, would give Drakormir issues at the very least.

Or there could be something he could do that could help him in both regards... if he moved quickly.

Darting around the mass of the ooze, he would move to keep it between himself and the titan. As he did so he dug deep into the well of borrowed power given to him by the dragon. Taking a deep breath he thrust both hands forward and unleashed the attack. Unlike before this attack was not a stream of the fire but rather an almighty explosion to lift the ooze into the air. The follow up blasts of fire to act as a rocket, to send the ooze flying at the titan.

He wanted to protect the city so it could serve it's purpose, which meant getting rid of the ooze. But he wanted to protect the dragon as well, which meant hitting the titan. With this? He could make progress on both. As it was even with the borrowed power he had been given, he was unsure as to what he could do against a titan of such magnitude itself.

Better to send a monstrosity to face the monster.

Medja Kara Orin

 

[Gerra]

The gaping maw of the behemoth stretched wide to consume Gerra and he felt the rancid stench of its breath on the wind. Teeth surrounded him, like the bars of a dungeon cell. Ahead of him he saw only the red-pink of the dragon's gullet and the blackness of the abyss beyond.

It felt like the end of the world.

And it would be.

Maho... all these people... Worthless sacrifices unless he acted. Unless he did not bend before the face of death itself.

Metal rasped as he pulled a dagger from the sheath at his waist, ready to meet his fate. He was no mage. He did not understand the deeper workings of the arcane, but he knew enough to understand the choice before him.

All magic has a price.

He spoke the word.

Power rushed out in a whoosh that nearly sent him to his knees. The world seemed to shake. The crackle of energy from the ring proved too much and with this last act it shattered in a sudden sharp crack of snapping metal and exploding crystal that severed his finger. Gerra grunted in pain. Blood spurted from the stump, slicking his hand in warm, gushing scarlet. The pieces of the ring and its cracked yellow sapphire fell to the ground.

A ring, created by the most powerful Abtati Pharoah who had ever lived, which could never be reforged. This was its final spell.

The price of power.

The maw of the behemoth loomed and Gerrra, one hand dripping ichor, the other clenched around the hilt of his knife, ran forward and leaped into it.

 

[Nahir]

Lying prone, the man from the casket tried desperately to calm his breathing, to stop the shaking that had seized his body. His memories were fading like stars in a sunrise. Loss and hopelessness and betrayal gripped him like a vice, but the cause of his anguish escaped him. The void in his recollection was painfully large; it was so obvious why he was here, who he was mourning, so why? How did both of those answers escape him? Why had they done this to him?.....wait! Wait, no, nonono he’d had it! For just a moment! It was gone. Curses! Who were they?! Why was there so much haze, and pain?

Focus, Nahir.

His father’s voice sounded through the chaos. Distant, yet distinct. Focus. He needed focus. Clasping his hands together as if in prayer, Nahir shut his eyes tight and sought awareness. There is something within each of us which transcends the physical, moves beyond the wisdom of learned men. But it is not unknowable. Find it.

Energy, wild and confused, began to filter and find focus within his soul. A key was turned within him, and Nahir’s Ko was unlocked.

Through channeling his soul, Nahir gained control of his body and felt some strength return to his limbs. In attempting to stand under his own power, he learned how truly weary he was.

Eyes like lapis lazuli flashed about their surroundings. The sand and dust here had been recently disturbed; a small company of men, in armor. They had left here hours ago with the weapon that had been sealed away in this chamber; technically his inheritance, but Nahir wasn’t overly concerned over the theft. He had bigger problems.

Torturous steps up, up into the desert sand, and into the light he’d been denied for so long. Breathing heavy, he leaned on his makeshift cane; a curved saber, tarnished and chipped. He’d taken it off one of the ancient corpses downstairs. The grip felt familiar in his hand.

There was an army at rest camped not too far out. The clatter of arms, the murmur of voices.... the voices, were they speaking Abtat? Hope began to swell within him. His own people. Surely he’d find aid, answers, help...

Goodbye, my son. I’m sorry.

In a neighboring land, a brilliant yellow gemstone splintered, then cracked.

 

[Zier Xya Zythos]

(Sorry.. replies might be like the rain yesterday, SHORT AND SPOTTY. bleh real world.)

The Shield Of Elyleed? that sounds exciting! Maybe there's-

“If you can find some way to carry it. Follow me.”

Well, that doesn't sound exciting. It won't do shit if they can't move it, and he certainly doesn't have a way to lift it. He closely watched the archivist disable the wards because he is so gonna break in here when this shit is over. When they entered, there was absolutely no containting his childish outbursts. How could he?

"The staff of Fa'qoi-- The armor of ZaImesh!!! THE SEISMIC SWORD- That name is kinda meh- OH, THE. FALWOOD. PEA-"

The Shield Of Elyleed.

The task at hand. FUCK.

Dragonslayers? Bounce back their flames??? That sounded wonderful. Unfortunately for Zier, the new year just loved fucking with him and of course the very item they need is going to be tall and heavy as shit. Who used this back in the day? He doubts an orc could take this thing into battle. Oh well, at least this years screwing everyone and it isn't just him.

Did he look at the archivist and Sitim with a are you fucking with me right now? are you serious look? yes he did. After about five seconds of mentally expressing those thoughts, he voiced them in case the message wasn't clear. "I know you don't expect Maester Sitim and certainly not myself to lug that out of here. SO.. does that thing get smaller or is there anything else more... practical to use." He said it as nicely as he could in such a situation.

 

[Sepheron]

The fire didn't take out her eye but it had done damage. Her unnatural leg had fallen off, along with her egg but Sepheron couldn't focus on it. He tilted to the side to dodge the green flame as it barely passed him. But as he avoided the fire, it made him open to get clipped by her tail and it completely knocked him off course. Sepheron spun out of control in the air and was on a crash course to the nearby forest but eventually straightened out and remained in the air. His hind legs skimmed the top of the trees but he flapped his wings to get himself higher in the air.

His head snapped back toward Neha as he angled himself back toward her and let out a bellowing roar as he closed the distance. Sepheron would be much more agile her because of their size difference and once again shot himself into the air and above the Elder dragon but instead of aiming for her face, he closed his wings when he was high enough and fell straight down onto her back.

The talons of his hindlegs would dig into her scales as he allowed his heavyweight to drag himself down her spine as he would also slam the hooks of his wings as well to do whatever damage they may. At the same time as this, Sepheron had opened his mouth once more and let a scorching blaze erupt from it and into her scales as he was dragged down.

When he would eventually stop, Sepheron stayed latched onto Neha this time and continued to dig his claws and hooks deeper for whatever damage they would cause while also continuing the stream of flames as he whipped his head back and forth.

 

[Medja]

Aramekh carried his passengers quickly across he land, a grace to be sure. Medja could sense Drakormir's intent even from this distance...if they didn't hurry Elbion would be decimated. Using her bandages to strap herself to Aramekh's neck, Medja observed the landscape in front of her. It had been a long while since she'd seen anything besides desert landscape; were it only that she was visiting on less dire terms.

The ride carried on in relative peace and quiet for the majority of the time. The Vizier of Stars wasn't terribly in the mood for conversation, and hearing each other from their respective perches was difficult, to say the least. That was until the towers of Elbion and Drakormir's hulking form began to appear on the horizon. No sooner did they begin to come into view that Medja sensed hostility...perhaps from the dragon, perhaps from another like her who had taken in his blood. An enormous, black mass began to rapidly approach Aramekh, seemingly on an intercept course.

Whatever the giant blob of ick was, neither Medja nor Aramekh were terribly keen on letting it get anywhere near them. Around halfway between the point where it was launched and where it would have collided with the titan, the pair of geomancers focused and an equally giant wall of stone sprung from the ground. A terribly loud boom would be heard likely all the way back to Elbion as the ick slammed into the stone barrier at mach speeds. By the time Aramekh flew by the impact site there was little more than rubble and black ooze seeping from the pile.

It would only be seconds now before Medja and company arrived to do what they could for Elbion...

 

[Lazule]

That inherent trust. Betrayed, and not for the first time. Humanity was supposed to be better. They retained for the capacity for Good that monsters definitively lacked. Yet the longer Lazule lived the more he discovered that his inherent trust of Humanity could possibly be...flawed. Even Father did not trust his fellow Man with unwavering certainty.

The myth of unconditional love. Sustained. Once more.

In Lazule's hesitation to strike Zachariah, the green fire whip swung in its arc and proved to be the perfect weapon to circumvent his Shield. It slammed into and scorched the armor at the back of Lazule's shoulders and head, chips of living stone from the armor crumbling and falling free and the metal of his helm glowing faintly with a heat that burned into the back of his head underneath.

His Shield of Light disappeared and he stumbled from the impact, Lance dragging across the ground and its magic slicing into the dirt on contact and this fruitless happening nevertheless taxing Lazule in the form of more internal heat. He had already launched a score of Javelins at the Dragons and deflected not one but two intense waves of flame with his Shield. He was thus more than halfway to critical failure of his body through overuse of Luminomancy.

But he could not stop. Erën was right. This man no longer held the sanctity of personhood. How it happened--irrelevant. Only the Slaying of him would suffice. Him and the Dragons--the true threat--that he distracted them from.

With the Shield of Light gone from his left hand, Lazule was free to cast a different spell. And he did. Refraction. With a quick weave of his hand the ambient light around Lazule bent excessively, as if he were encased in a shell of rippling water. His movements seemed highly erratic, his armored body appearing to shift and contort constantly, stretching and shrinking and bending and warping, his true position difficult to decipher.

Under this confusing cover he approached Zachariah. Lazule would by necessity for his Lance to function properly need to dispel his Refraction when he was ready to strike. He took the time to try and circle around to Zachariah's back, allowing Erën to occupy his forward attention.

Lazule dispelled his Refraction spell.

And thrust forward his Lance of Light at Zachariah.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Zachariah

 

[The Herald]

For Gerra, time seemed to cease in midair.

A figure appeared right in front of Gerra. It blocked his vision.

Its gaze drifted to the stump where Gerra’s finger and the Ring of Ren used to be.

Then its attention shifted to the Ring of Akhu that Gerra had used before. The diamond became infected with some sort of black cloud. The wearer’s will would be susceptible to even the common beggar from now on.

The Ring of Abu grabbed its focus next. The purple amethyst shifted into a corrupted yellow citrine. The suffering and fear of the city would attempt to imprint itself upon Gerra’s heart. The wearer would be a slave to the emotions of others – as if an Empathy magician constantly toyed with their mind.

With the Ring of Bah, just one look from the figure cracked its pearl. Gerra would have time to remove it, but to not do so would transform him into his golden eagle form. The wearer would always be in one animal form – and their own bodies would pay the price for the transformation until the wearer is drained dry.

Finally, the figure looked into Gerra’s eyes.

It moved its arms to shove a hand into Gerra’s mouth.

Gerra shall pay by action instead of blood.

The Emperor shall only experience the sensation of ash upon his tongue for the rest of his existence in the past, present, and future.

And you shall not taste the poison your subjects will feed you for your deeds.

Then the figure disappeared, leaving Lessat and Pneria to watch all that would proceed.

Drakormir ceased to move. Ceased to breath. The song in the air that Alexios Marxan and Medja heard disappeared.

Then, the earth quaked with Drakormir as the epicenter.

A ripple in the aether pulsed from Drakormir’s mouth. At random, magic within Elbion came unbound, twisted, and reversed. Corrupted.

The earth continued to shake.

The bodies of those that Gerra just killed with the Ring of Ren began to shift. Those that even been lon dead or buried also morphed. Their flesh twisted in ways that was not meant to be. Skin stretched beyond its limits. Eyes materialized in random areas. They rose from the ground with their misshapen, monstrous forms all around the city. Just as with the ooze, they would move to kill and consume any living being.

The earth continued to shake. And crack all over Elbion. And split – forming deep crevices where some unfortunately fell into. Many buildings, including the Doge’s Palace, were split in two.

Then the ground began to rise into the air. As Zier Xya Zythos examined the Shield of Elyleed, many artifacts began to act up within the Vault. And then the entire College of Elbion shook and moved up. And it continued to rise. And rise. And rise. Until it was clear that nothing but air touched the bottom of the rock the College sat upon.

The College of Elbion floated further into to sky. Other broken parts of the city joined it in the air. The fractured city of Elbion just kept rising into the air as many “islands”. Below it was a vast hole with a purple miasma. The river and surrounded earth began to fall into this hole.

As this happened, Drakormir began to sink into the hole – no island being large enough to carry Him. The Port District that Milo Vox, ALexios, and others stood in broke apart as chunks flew into the air. The dragon still did not move on His own. Gerra and those nearby would have time to find some safety before the dragon plunges into this dark abyss.

Elbion College

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria had taken cover for good reason. Death surrounded on every side, and she still fancied living to fight another minute. She never tore away from looking at the target that she sought. That cursed egg.

Opportunity struck as the dragons once again dueled. The egg fell, and for one moment, Zathria was sure that the egg was going to slam into the ground and shatter.

But fate had another plan.

The egg crashed into the river of lava, and Zathria seized the opportunity. Surely, the third time would be the charm. Pushing herself away from the building and flexing against the heat of her armor, pushing the pain from her mind. She moved swiftly and silently. She knew how to keep to the shadows and she did so as best she could as she moved toward the egg.

She moved along the "bank" of the river, careful in her steps before finding a location that would suit her needs.

She reached out with magic tendrils, yanking the egg toward her through the lava. She would take the egg and run with it if she had to, back into the underrealm as quickly as she could. It was the real prize to be had for her people here. With any luck at all, even in the slightest, the other dragon would keep the mega dragon busy and Zathria would be long gone before anyone was the wiser.

 

[Zarko]

"Behold citizens of Elbion!" Zarko's enchanted voice boomed loudly, cutting through the terror and mayhem in Aramekh's wake, "The Magnificent Zarko, greatest wizard on Arethil, is here to save you!"

There was a mighty roar at the city's epicenter and he was bashed violently against the stone golem's calf after each quake. But it was the wave of magical aether that truly terrified him. Sparks tore his satchel to pieces and dozens of enchanted rockets erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks across Aramekh's waist bathing the crumbling city in an effervescent glow.

"That was easy!" the gnome blinked soot out of his eyes, normally coifed hair sticking on end, "No need to thank me Elbion. All in a day's work for Zarko the Dragon-shiiiiiiii"

His enchanted rope had also failed, slowly unraveling until the loosened climbing knot could no longer support his weight. Zarko plummeted towards the earth only for one of many floating islets to rise up and catch him. The gnome still landed roughly, groaning as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, but somehow alive.

A shambling mass of twisted flesh charged him. He yelped in terror and on instinct more than out of any rational impulse Zarko raised his wand and launched an aetheric missile at the monstrosity. Power surged through him unlike anything he'd ever felt before and when it struck his assailant imploded in a cloud of gore.

"I'm the chosen one..." he stared at his own hands as if they belonged to a stranger, "I'm the CHOOOSEN OOOOONE!"

What had that wave of magic done to him?

 

[Focraig'Diin]

The surge came without warning.

It was a veritable wall slamming into him with all the full-force of a charging elephant. A ripple of what seemed to be, to his senses, raw magic. Power the likes he had never felt before, and never would in any othe adventure after. It was only thanks to his hardy constitution he wasn't knocked about like the many citizens of Elbion, standing his ground as he decided, there was no time to spare now. Not with that dragon finally about to breach the gates.

His mind sharpened, honed to an inhumane edge as he mustered a willpower fit to drag the very chill of the north to this one area. He was not using himself as a conduit, thus the effects of this spell would be diluted. But even that would be enough to deal with a majority of this ooze that was eating into everything.

"Breath of Murath."

The grim invocation brought with it the icy chill of the cold North, as the ooze began to solidify and turn a pure white, mist crawling off its once black skin as it turned to ice under the impressive feat of alteration Focraig had manifested. It was nowhere near as fast had he been at its epicenter, but still, it was a matter of moments before at least half of that slime had been completely frozen down to its fundamental levels. Like a tide of chill, the whiteness continued to spread, like a drop of white upon a puddle of black ink.

Then the ground shook.

This, even the ice mage did not see coming. His concentration broken, he fell on his rear to tumble into a nearby fruit stall, due to the sheer force of the trembling. He was quite annoyed, but the areas he had frozen over were already dealt with, and that left him with at least half of the slime left, to compensate. But what in Arethil had been that shaking?

He rushed out to the gates, now empty of guards and citizens, ignoring the ooze in favor of figuring out what the hell was happening outside -

"Oh, fuck me sideways."

He was starting to swear more often than he'd like, but the sight that granted him now? An equally terrifying view as the dragon that had, moments before, reached the outskirts of the city. Now it was dead. Most definitely - Even dragons did not lie like that unless they wanted to suffer serious discomfort or even a numb limb - and apparently, its death had effects for the entire bloody landscape. Which was why he swore. The freaking city was rising into the sky. Not high enough he doubted his chances of landing, but at that pace, the window was already closing on him.

He had a choice now, to either abandon the city which he had made his temporary abode and continue his search for the enigmatic shadow of his past, without the city's prodigious libraries, or stay behind.

It was a... tricky decision. He did not pay the remaining ooze any heed - His body radiated a deathly chill, a malevolent, navy blue cold that had already frozen the earth beneath him, and any ooze that tried to come near was frozen and shattered near instantly on contact. A consequence of invoking the powerful incantation, Focraig was also regulating his inner cold to prevent his blood from freezing over.

This, as he stared down at the dwindling earth, gave him quite the migraine.

What to bloody do?

 

[Milo Vox]

His focus had narrowed to a point, sharpened under the distant ache of muscle exhaustion, the imminent agony of the hole in his side. If asked later what it was like, Milo would likely not be able to recall – The arduous climb was noiseless, the only sights the casual acknowledgement of the looser scaled skin around the monster’s joint, the swell where its hip met its body; Milo’s destination, where he might finally be able to stand again on the back of the dragon on the back of the world on the back of a turtle shell on the back of the turtle shell -- Turtles, just all the way down.

The Paladin shook his head and returned to the moment. He had come so very far, but there was still so much to go. Dagger after dagger, reach after reach.

But something in the air had changed (though Milo would never be able to tell you what.) He paused from where his daggers wedged in the space between enormous scales, looking back down on harbor cobblestone from where he started this climb – only to find that it no longer exist. Elbion was falling apart, and what had once been the heroes of the day were now scrambling to escape. Ser Vox needed to get down, he needed to leave.

But would he escape? Did he have enough time?

If he dropped, he would certainly die. Or he’d break his legs, where he would also die. Or maybe he’d be fine and start running, only to still die.

A coward dies a thousand deaths, they say.

Milo turned from the ground and looked back up to the swell where the dragon’s hip met its body; Milo’s destination, where he might finally be able to stand on the back of the dragon on the back of the world on the back of the turtle shell.

And he reached, placing the dagger in the higher niche’, and pulled himself up.

No, he would not die in fear. He would live in bravery.

And he reached higher.

The pain, the agony. The passion. The zeal.

A mischievous grin broke his determined scowl, dopamine flooding his brain. He was climbing faster, and faster. A light, cool sweat refreshed him. This was his life, and he was living it. He endured, unabashed, like any good martyr, because everything – all of it—was sacred.

He had not even noticed that he had been humming.

Wherever the dragon may go next, Ser Vox would go with it.

Kara Orin

 

[Ashieron]

Ash was actually napping in a tree when the whole thing started to go down, with a huge eaethquaking explosion. Ash covered the sky and area around it, the sort of pun made him chuckle also. Either way it was a great day! For what he saw when he looked up was a huge ancient dragon. For once one of them was bigger then Alccarion, Aivrid was not as big as her, nor was Masaru where ever his good friend was.

Though the dragon seemed distressed as though something was amiss... he would look down and scan the area. Ahhhhh! The mother’s egg was in danger by the dark elf. It has been a while since he had seen one that had crawled from its dark underground home. Now he would not want the child to be spirited away from the one who could care for it so much better then the mother, or another of its kin back at his own organization.

As the dark elf casted her magic tendrils the elf jumped down from his rubble patch and with his levitating magic, yanks the egg out of the air and lands on the lava. He does not sink but simply stands there with and egg making sure it was okay. Before he would turn around,

“Fucking disgrace. You dare separate a mother from her child!?” He growls in draconic, his speech being transmitted like that of the dragons. “Such things sicken me beyond words.” He would look up at the mother with pity and sadness.

He would lift his hands and a powerful healing spell would leave his mouth, providing the mother with a quick burst of energy and healing if she so needed it. He was on the side of dragon this time, if not more the child inside the egg. It was innocent and had yet to breath the air of life and they seeked to either prevent that or use it for their own wicked ways. That would not stand.

 

[Neha]

Neha snarled as the golden dragon slammed into her neck, attempting to get a purchase on her scales like she were some mountain to climb up. She twisted with surprising speed and the gust of wind the two dragons created in their plight would have sent people below sprawling to the floor once more as if hit by a sledgehammer. Even so the golden dragon clung on to her with his hooks, biting, clawing, throwing flame after fit of flame at her in an attempt to get beneath her scales.

From the ground the assault was no less. Arrows and other projectiles came at her though they were in danger of hitting their ally dragon now too. One tore through her wing and an almighty roar sent civilians to their knees, hands over their ears as they bled.

The unlucky fell before the undead who devoured them.

Those even more unfortunate were flattened as Neha came crashing down into the city. The great hall which had somehow withstood the destruction until now collapsed like a pressed grape beneath her weight as she landed on her back, attempting to pin Sepheron beneath her or knock him off. The green fire was causing havoc with the stump of her leg but then suddenly an odd sensation crept over her.

Healing magic.

Someone... was... helping her? Her mind tore through others around her searching for the one who had repaired her wing and stopped the flow of blood from her stump. There. He was going after her egg. There was a moment of elation and as her fear for her child turned to relief an odd thing happened.

Where her blood touched now... flowers grew. A wild, beautiful meadow began to spread from where she now lay outwards.

* * *​

The egg bobbed merrily down the lava river. From it came the sweetest of songs. When the elf touched it with her magic she would hear it, like a baby gurgling in a crib completely oblivious to the destruction around it. It seemed to sense the magic and for a brief moment its mind touched with the stranger; confusion. This was not Mother, nor Zachariah. Who was she? It's mind was like the kiss of sweet sunlight.

The magic brought the egg to rest against two rocks. It would be easy enough to grab for anyone now it was anchored and would not be swept away by the lava.

For those who touched it or drew close they too would feel the sweetness of the creatures mind within. It's gentle curious touch against their mind.

Spoiler: Egg Snatchers must roll...

1 D20 = How likely you are to complete your action successfully
1 D8 = How lucky you are in the face of what comes next.

Please PM me (JJ) on Discord with your results after your next post