Vash’s and Felt’s promises made Whitney to slightly calm down. She was a bit tired because of all the crying, but could stop the weeping, at least for the time being. The girl looked Vash who had left after Archer. Even from the distance she could sense some sort of a tension between them, but she didn’t think about it a lot. The fact that Felt was holding her hand took the most of her attention. For some reason Whitney couldn’t look straight back at the boy. She turned her face away and watched the rocks at the ground like they were the most interesting thing on earth.

“Okay”, Whitney muttered and wiped away the last tears with her free hand. “Okay.” She thought that they maybe should go after Vash and Archer, but she feared that then Felt would take his hand away.

But why do I even worry about that? It’s not like his hand is more important than defeating that legendary dragon, right? Right?! Seriously, I cannot sit like that for the rest of the day. I need to at least see what’s important. Otherwise I’m nothing but an idiot, I guess.

Whitney forced herself to face Felt again. That’s when Sorin passed by and said something not-so-soothing about death never coming alone and Felt giving promises he couldn’t keep. Whitney was somehow annoyed, it was not Sorin’s business to decide whether Felt could keep his promises or not. But there was no time for that, the most important thing was to defeat the dragon. That’s what they had to do.

“We should maybe go after them”, she said and let out a barely audible sigh.

Balalaika couldn’t help but sigh at her wasted attempts at friendliness; the deaf who strode up the mountain trail seemed content in their abilities with little room for future alliances, at least not with the likes or her today. The rat man on the other hand… that might be a different story. He spoke in a childish way, although seeming to get answers from the so called Supreme Commander Ba’al. “Quite the charismatic one, aren’t you?” The blonde said with hints of sarcasm in her voice. “I am Balalaika… and it’s both a pleasure and a surprise to meet one such as you my furry friend. None the less, my offering of supplies goes out to you as well, so long as you plan to hunt the dragon.”

Balalaika would follow along the decrepit monster and do the same as everyone else, eventually convening at the crowd that gathered around the sentient feline. With all these hands available, surly the group would be able to succeed in their task at hand, but overall everyone seemed scattered and unorganized. Now having welcome downtime both a cigar and lighter were produced from the bag on Balalaika’s back. She wasn’t able to take a nice smoke since back on earth, and this seemed like as good a time as any. The nicotine proved to calm and clarify, at the expense of anyone around who didn’t find joy in its smoky embrace. Sensing protest, she moved over to the outskirts of the group while also keeping clear of Kane, who peered eerily in her direction. She looked at him for a brief moment and then paid him no mind. After a few minutes of smoking and thinking, Balalaika put out the cigar on the underside of her boot, and approached the group once more.

In a loud commanding tone, “Excuse me ladies and gentleman. I’d hate to remind you, but we do have to go through a few weeks of this shit, and the longer we mill about here, the less time we’ll have to rest in the city before the next challenge. I’ve personally never fought a dragon before, but if it’s as much of a threat as it’s been made out to be, the best chance we have is to go all out in a coordinated strike. If we can ambush it, that would be even better. I am Balalaika, and as a former Captain in the Soviet Armed Forces, it would be an honor to lead once more into glorious battle, and even greater to have a team of strong soldiers behind me. So tell me, are any of you prepared to fill those roles? To earn the right out of this God-Forsaken place and make it back home? I think you are, because if we’ve made it this far separated, just think about what power we’d have together! I say we march up that mountain right now and show that dragon that we’re even greater than legendary!”

As Balalaika gave her speech, Kane nearly felt empathy for the girl. He wondered how she got those scars that littered her body. He’d have to ask later. All this talk of dragons was getting the masked man antsy. But if killing one was what it took to make it out of this place, Kane would comply, and then strangle whoever it was that sent him here. Of course the only person he could think of was his brother in this case, but if that were so than why was everyone else here? It could be that this world was some sort of hell for the damned, but that might be too good to be true. That thought sent an unseen smile across Kane’s face, but it was a fleeing happiness. Why would they have goals to complete if this was a plane of insanity? No, this was a competition of sorts, and much like acquiring the title belt, they’d have to take out quite a few big names to do it. There would be alliances made and broken, betrayals, hardships, and if it all didn’t take place in a ring, Kane could have sworn he was back in the WWF.

So, would he join up in this woman’s makeshift army? The answer was yes, it felt like the most advantageous decision at the time, and if things changed later, he could always brake off on his own or team up with others. Taking his electrolarynx up to his damaged vocal cords, Kane gave a response in an emotionless mechanical voice. “I will lend your cause the powers of the devil himself to destroy the dragon. When I’m done with it, the beast shall burn in hell.”

"Why thank you," Ba'al replied to Balalaika, looking to her as they advanced up the slope to the meeting of the paths, where the rest of the group was. "I've been told that my rogueish looks and sense of humor are two of the best things about me." That was a flat out lie, but she didn't need to know that. Well, actually, it technically wasn't. He did get a lot of compliments, so he'd probably heard that one once or twice. Of course, it wasn't like the people complimenting him were unbiased, but that was just one of those pesky details.

Meanwhile, Sorin's statement earned a frown of disapproval from Ba'al. As if the vampire was one to talk to him about faith. Him, who was worshiped as a god by a good portion of the galaxy! Who said that faith was for those who feared? Well, they did fear him and the power he could bring to bear, but they were also loyal, truly believed in his divinity. It was only when that illusion had been shattered by the defeat at Dakara that things had fallen apart, and even then the Jaffa had still proven that they craved strong leadership, someone to direct them, like himself. A pity SG1 kept ruining his plans.

Arriving with the others, Ba'al looked about the group to notice their reduced numbers, as well as the few arguments ongoing. So, it seemed they hadn't journeyed through the caves unscathed. Fools. Well, Ba'al had told them so, and they hadn't heeded his words, so maybe they'd be more likely to listen to him in the future once he reminded them of this particular fact. He was perfectly content to stay silent though, and let everyone think Sorin was a jerk and he the reasonable one though.

THen Balalaika began to speak, and Ba'al turned his attention along with most everyone else. Eh, it wasn't that amazing, but at least it was devoid of the grandstanding he was used to. When she finished, he stepped forward, clapping. "Well said, though I hardly think it was necessary. Most of us seem to prefer getting back to proving our mettle against whatever we're forced to combat. But that in mind, we do need to be going. So lead the way, Captain," he said with a grin and a bow, gesturing up the path to the mountain peak where dark, ominous clouds emanated and swirled.

Sorin's intervention was far from necessary--and, in fact, all it did was paint a target on his back. At least he wouldn't be entirely unaware: the look of hatred in the vampire's direction made Archer's disagreement with Vash look like sunshine and roses. Whilst Vash's philosophy was the most painfully naive that the Heroic Spirit had ever been exposed to, it was simply that--naive. He might think the blonde man an idiot and his views a painful reminder of the attitude that lead to his current existence... but it wasn't something that went against the tanned man's principles to such an extent.

The look lasted only an instant, then Archer was headed up the hill once again, now planning to keep an eye on Sorin and learn his abilities and weaknesses, as well as how to deal with him either when this was over or if he turned on the rest in his own interests. Saber, at least, could be relied upon to side against him if his views became common knowledge.

Vash raised an eyebrow at Archer — the man’s second response not only still not answering his question, but also landing even farther from said question than the first, leaving the gunman rather confused as to what Archer could’ve meant by it.

He didn’t even have time to ask about it, though, before Sorin butted in. Vash grit his teeth slightly as he listened to the vampire’s words, as hearing such lack of empathy for the dead never did sit well with him. Recognizing that he at least made a strong argument, though, Vash paused for a moment to think of a response.

“I disagree.” he replied simply, but sternly. “Just because killing is the easy option, that doesn’t make it acceptable.” he argued. “There’s always a way to resolve conflicts without resorting to killing. The hard part, sometimes, is finding it.” he continued, though his voice had started to sound less certain and stern and a bit more thoughtful, as if Sorin’s words were really making him dig deep for the answers. “But, we have to at least try to find a way. Because, no one has the right to take the life of another.”

Vash then glanced towards Archer, and sighed quietly as he watched him continue trekking across the trail. “For example,” he spoke up, starting to follow after Archer while still directing his words towards Sorin. “Our objective is to ‘defeat the legendary dragon’. We have no need to kill it. Not for survival — as it won’t try to harm us unless we attack it — and not to complete the challenge, as we were only told to ‘defeat’ the dragon, and we weren’t specifically told to ‘kill’ it.” he explained, eyes locked on Archer as he spoke, as if now directing his argument to both of them. “Killing it might be the easy way to complete the challenge, but it isn’t the only way. We just need to figure out a non-lethal way of subduing it.” he continued. "And..." his expression then started to lighten up a bit. "I think the preservation of life is worth the extra effort, don’t you?” he finished, smiling a bit nervously at the two of them.

"Challenges?" Twitch hadn't heard a thing, and the idea struck him as stupid, unnecessary. If the self-proclaimed emperor- Twitch found it easy to sneer. This human was as out of place as anyone else here, yet he carried the title as if there was still an empire behind it- was telling him correctly, which he found extremely unlikely, then something, somewhere, was clearly using them as pawns and playthings, baiting them. The idea was repulsive. Twitch, and only Twitch, had the right to tell Twitch what to do and who to follow. Splitting from this amassment and pursuing his own fate appealed to him, but their numbers meant safety, and if anyone gathered here knew the effectiveness of a determined gaggle of variously armed odds and ends, it was a champion of the League.

Then again... A death at Summoner's Rift wasn't permanent. Undesirable, unpleasant, but temporary. Trying not to think about Ba'al's coincidental wording too hard, Twitch remembered that the zombie lightning beast followed the necromancer (who was discussing ethics, the wise-ass), and soon felt completely satisfied with tagging along. "I'm not your furry friend, markswoman," he corrected, waggling a finger, "Nor is my company a pleasure, so leave your good manners by the door, please. That said, poking holes in a dragon is always fun. Heheheh, let's do it." And he was getting bored of it being the same one-and-a-half dragons over and over. While he was at it, he could probably pickpocket some cigars from Balalaika later; The air was awfully fresh up here.

The remaining conversation bored him immensely. Fancy discussing murder as though it was something complicated! Twitch turned his attention to removing his quivers and counting his bolts. He was woefully underloaded. Perhaps he could salvage shots that he'd fired at the lightning beast, though the piercing bolt had broken under the weight of the thing's arm and would not be replaceable. This in mind, Twitch set about examining the monster's body, nibbling this, bottling that, eyes and nose peeled for any energy bugs that remained. They'd make a marvellous alchemical ingredient.

Ambushed

Legendary. It was not a word to be taken lightly, especially in a world of Monster Hunters. Anything that could gain that title in a land where savage monsters could destroy kingdoms overnight would have to stand high above the rest of their brethren to be recognized as such. Legendary meant that the monster was a tyrant, ruling over all others with qualities that let it stand above the rest whether it be overwhelming power, keen intellect, frightening speed, or any combination of the above and even other qualities forgotten through the passage of time. In this case, the legend was all too real... and much closer than anyone would think.

In this case, the Dragon was so dangerous and elusive that no one knew what it quite looked like until it struck- and then there were no survivors to relate relevant information back of that horrible encounter. The King of the Mountain had chosen to step down from its throne to investigate its territory, and had found many individuals. On some instinctual level, it found that the tiny and soft two-legs were dangerous somehow, despite lacking fangs, claws, or even toughened hides. Yet the feeling persisted, egging on the King to destroy the usurpers while they were unwary and fighting among themselves. It was a powerful beast, but quite intelligent too. It was also rather close to its goal, and taking down any threats before it could assume its true power would be ideal. Thus, the tyrant struck now rather than later, so as to kill two birds with one stone: destroy possible threats to growth and possible food for said growth.

A fell wind began wafting in from higher up on the mountain as the ruler performed its preemptive strike. Concentrated blasts of miasma rained down like hail, impacting the ground and turning the place into a field of darkness as the contagions contained within writhed maliciously in the form of dark vapors. From the skies dropped a dark form, looking almost wholly alien from anyone's expectations of what a dragon should be. It was long and catlike, lacking eyes as its face was adorned with black carapace. What looked like a fur cape billowed about its shoulders, tipped with great points. Said cape was casting purple pollen about with its every movement, choking the formerly fresh air with its malicious byproduct. Crashing into the ground with enough force to shake the area, the fur broke apart with a cracking sound to reveal itself as wings, with great claws that smashed the ground near it, taking up a lot of space in the now much more crowded battlefield as it roared a challenge to the kingslayers. And then all hell broke loose as it shot a salvo of enormous high speed balls of poison everywhere.

Saber

It seemed the others had returned. And in tow was... was... what was that?! Its very existence was wrong. Saber's eyes lingered on the huge, decayed frame of the undead dragon. It was... it was wrong. She could only assume it had been an enemy of the vampire and Bal'al. It seemed not to be the work of Bal'al, that was for certain. Even if she did not fully trust the System Lord, she did not think him capable of... this abomination. Slaying one's enemies to be expected in combat, unless it was merely a sparring match or a friendly duel. And it may very well have attacked them of its own volition. But to reduce it to such a state, and force its corpse into servitude... The utter wrongness of such an act what palpable. It was a violation of the the creature's life, far beyond what would have resulted simply from ending it. She cast a quick glance at the cat-person, and thanked them for the information they'd provided. There were things that needed her attention.

For one matter, the newly-arrived women had pledged to lead them... Something that Saber was unsure of. For indeed, she had once commanded armies herself. She was a King, and a King had to be prepared to lead an army in defense of the defenseless. She could not deny that this woman appeared to have military experience, but at the same time she would not simply give herself over to be commanded by her. However, there was something more important occurring. Archer and Vash... swiftly, Saber put on a little more speed. Archer's ideals would surely clash with Vash's, and she was uncertain of what would result. And now the vampire... She had overheard what he had said.

Anger bubbled up. Such a callous, hateful ideal... An antithesis of what it meant to be a King, and a Knight. An antithesis of heroism and honor. Saber caught up behind them, the anger now plain on her face... but before she could even open her mouth, an attack commenced in the blink of an eye. The black blasts of undentifiable substance rained down, and Saber put on a burst of speed to move ahead of the others. She raised Excalibur, cloaked in invisible air, and swung it, dissipating a blast that had been careening straight for them! And then the creature descended.

It took a few moments for Saber to even realize it was a dragon. It was an alien creature, black and... somehow... Saber felt something from the monster that she had not felt with the wyvern in the cave. Something felt utterly and entirely dark about this dragon. Something evil. Saber planted one armored foot ahead of her. It had come from further up the mountain...

This was the legendary dragon.

Saber's grip on Excalibur's hilt tightened as she raised the sword up.

She was poised.

The King of Knights was ready.

---

Jakuzure Nonon

Nonon cruised to the mountainside, and raised an eyebrow. So they'd picked up some new people? Jeez, more idiots to have to manage... it was getting awfully crowded. There was just a big gaggle of people, talking to... okay, that cat-man-thing was kind of cute, she had to admit that. But seriously. This was just a disaster waiting to happen, that was for sure. And there was this woman, making some big speech about how they should all follow her because she commanded some soviets... hah. There was only one person Nonon would ever follow. There was only one person in the whole of everything that deserved that sort of attention from Jakuzure Nonon. The pink-haired girl let out a derisive huff.

"Heh, yeah," she began, waving one hand from her position drifting in the air, "Like I'd follow the orders of some kind of Commando Granny. You're not worth that kind of time."

The tiny girl shrugged.

"Maybe some of these idiots are dumb enough to follow you," Nonon jerked a thumb at the rat-man crawling all over the... zombie dragon thing? That was kinda gross, really, when had that got here? "I mean, if he's as stupid as he is ugly I'm sure he'd love to. But I'm not going to be listening to some random washed-out old lady commando."

Nonon folded her arms. She nearly continued, enjoying giving out some mocking, when darkness suddenly rained down upon them. Rapidly she jetted backwards, swiftly avoiding the impact of one of the huge blobs of darkness. And then... Wait, what was that?!

"What's that supposed to be?!" Nonon cried, pointing at the monster almost in irritation. It sure didn't look like any dragon she'd ever seen.

With a long, long yell, Evahld, son of Niel, fell from the sky. A sickening crack sounded as he hit the ground. However, he shook his head and stood up, seemingly none the worse for wear. The large viking's neck was off to one side, but he quickly put it back into place with another crack. He then pointed a finger at the new dragon with a wide grin.

"Ha! That cat thing could deliver quite a blow to send me flying... and if you're legendary, I suppose you'll be the trophy hanging on my lodge!"

With that, the animal shapes around him began to shift and change- the spiked boots vanished, but his forearms were now encased in large, saurian claws. And of course a spare set of spectral arms appeared as a four-armed gorilla appeared and vanished behind him. The arms took various martial arts poses as he began to charge the creature.

"NOW, FACE US, AND TEST YOUR METTLE! PUNISHING STANCE!"

The landscape's corruption was the first clue that this was not, in any way, going to be amenable to Vash's desire to try and talk a dragon down. Its sudden arrival, though, left Archer almost... disappointed with what was facing them. It was a mighty beast, as well as having a corrupting influence, but it wasn't quite up to the level of the magically-charged engine of destruction that the Servant was expecting to challenge them.

The high speed balls were avoided by the closest margins as he closed in as fast as he could, spear in hand. To those not used to high speed fights, it would look like Archer disappeared from his starting point, ground cracking, and reappeared within reach of the giant beast.

For this fight, he had no fancy tricks in mind, no trump card in mind--but he had the best weapon available for something so straightforward. Gram would be appropriate, but it was far too draining a weapon to use. The Totsuka-no-Tsurugi was the blade of a god, thus no matter its properties it would take far too much mana to project it. A third dragon-slaying blade was known to Archer--but not something he had ever seen. This, though, was perfect: Ascalon was simply the spear St. George had used in his exploits. As a Noble Phantasm, it had even less of an effect than Kanshou and Bakuya... but the white spear was enormously effective against dragon-typed entities.

For a battle of skill rather than power, Ascalon was the best choice for fighting a dragon.

Felt smiled, momentarily ignoring the remark made by Sorin. Right now, he was just happy to see that the Pokémon Trainer was calming down again. Hopefully this time she would stay that way for longer than five minutes... Now that she actually was calm though, he didn't really know what to say to her. Instead, he just squeezed her hand once.
"Yes, let's go," he said, nodding at the Gym Leader before releasing her hand. This was getting out of hand way too fast for the alchemist's liking. To be honest, he wasn't really sure if he should just take Whitney down the mountain before the entire party turned on itself, or try to douse the fire now that it was still smouldering. Honestly, the former felt quite a bit more inviting, considering how easily the skeleton was slain; Felt really wasn't intending to follow the sap any time soon. Either way, whivhever he would end up choosing, he would have to pick soon; if the fighting would actually start, it would be too late to run.

...Of course, a giant dragon smashing down quickly changed his priorities towards simply surviving. Dear Lilith, that beast was fast, far faster than anything of its size had any right to be. And considering the fact that the creature quite literally breathed poison -- or at least some kind of horrible smoke stuff --, trying to stay at a distance would be just as lethal as close combat. Running away would not be an option either... That only left the middle ground, staying at a medium range and going for swift slashes, all the way keeping himself between the dragon and Whitney. He would not back out on his promise so short after making it. Without even thinking about it, the young swordsman cut off a piece off of his clothing and threw it at Whitney. "Keep this over your mouth," he spoke. "It should help against the smoke. Can your Pokémon withstand it for a bit?" Not awaiting an answer for now, Felt turned back at the very potent threat, waiting for an opening before dashing at the overgrown reptile and slashing at it.

There was a quite the maelstrom on new commotion going on. From higher up on their path, where Vash and Archer had ended up going to argue, came again the System Lord, that vampire and some sort of... odd, zombie creature. Well, then. Unfamiliar were the gun-slinging, thick-accented lady, the very-obscured masked muscleman, and the absolutely revolting giant rat perched on the undead thing's back. Sazh could only assume they were also challengers who had somehow managed to get roped into this.

Between the now wholly present group, there was a couple of folks consoling the very distressed Whitney, Vash, Archer, Ba'al and Sorin arguing over semantics and righteousness, Nonon still being a snarky wise-ass, Saber managing to dispel her awkwardness around cats by focusing her disapproval of the zombie, and that freakin' viking falling out of the sky with a painful but apparently harmless crack. In the midst of it, Sazh could only consider once more how able this group would be of actually working together at all, when it came down to it. His whole idea of trying to get the folk together to gauge their abilities had taken one step out the gate and fallen flat on its face, so...

Sazh didn't get that chance to finish that thought. The entire sky area around them suddenly began to twist with shadowy clouds, a storm of dark distorting that hung thick in the air. Black power was flung in chunks from.. somewhere, soon revealed to a massive, sinister-colored... thing.

Was that their dragon, come early to snuff them out? It looked more like some giant cat, a quadruped creature cloaked in a fur sleeve. It touched down lead, spreading hundreds of violet particulates everywhere and tainting the environment with its very presence. With a crackling twist of the fur cape, out was unfurled two colossal wings, cutting the battlefield dangerously short and spreading yet more of that choking miasma. A roar, then a furious storm of venomous orbs was unleashed, and the battle began.

The cat-like had mentioned that perhaps the dragon might be weak to fire. Noting the apparent abundance of fur on some aspects of this thing's body, Sazh vouched a good guess that those were quite flammable. Quickly, he conjured a magical shell around himself, only barely able to outcast the barrage of poison. Without even drawing his pistols, the l'Cie charged up a surge of heated magic energy in his brand. Moments later, Sazh finally unleashed the blast in a huge flaming sphere; that hitting the dragon dead-on would result in a huge flaming explosion, with great stopping power and the distinct possibly of catching its furs aflame.

Ba'al was all set to implement the plan he had decided on, and let Balalaika lead the way up to the summit, under the theory of testing what kind of leader she was. By going in first, she would be the first to be killed should something attack, and the one who would also have to worry the most of betrayal. After all, you couldn't see what your foes were doing behind you. As one who had been in that subordinate position for so long, Ba'al knew the complexities that came with command well, and even though he was heavily more qualified to be in charge than this Tau'ri, he'd let her lead the way, and paint the target on her back.

Or rather not, for before that could culminate in anything, they suddenly found themselves under attack from above. Placing survival above valor, and perfectly willing to let everyone think he was a coward, Ba'al naturally moved to get into cover, away from the rain of...black stuff, that impacted all around and made the one decent looking mountainside a warzone between the Dragon and them all. Glancing from his rocky cover, Ba'al took in the Dragon, and had to keep from rolling his eyes. Well, this was going to be fun.

Fortunately his companions were up to the task and moved in to attack, and Ba'al got the chance to observe them all in action. Saber had her invisible sword, another fellow managing to materialize a spear or lance of some kind from nothingness, Sazh unleashed some kind of flaming sphere with his mind, a VIking fell from the sky, and such. A very impressive lot. Meanwhile, he prepared his Zat.

Meanwhile, the annoying flying girl spoke, and he felt obligated to point out the obvious. "It appears to be some kind of dragon trying to murder us all. If I don't miss my guess, it would appear to be the Legendary Dragon we were sent here on the quest for, so please, ignore it and keep talking." He punctuated the point with a couple Zat shots at the thing, though he didn't expect that to do anything at this point, not without knowing where it's weak spot or resistance to electricity might be.

"Well she's not wrong," replied Twitch conversationally, almost as if the statement had actually been addressing him. "My braincase is the size of a small pear, what do I know?" Idle chatter while he folded the scant remains of the energy bugs in a greased paper bag. Some still flickered, even wriggled, but most were burned out. Twitch didn't mind; he was used to salvaging what he could. There was one bolt still intact in the beast's flesh, adorned with a scrap of fur, and the atmosphere first began to change as he hacked it out with a shard of glass.

Twitch scented the approaching creature before the false rain began, crawled behind the zombie's side and cowered there, already assembling his crossbow. The heavy flecks of spores in the air confirmed his fear. This fall was organic. Something alive was approaching. The stained bolt snapped into place on the string and a snarl invaded Twitch's face as darkness fell.

Flattening himself, the rat pushed himself underneath the zombie's bulk in haste as the center of the storm landed. The dragon was unlike those in Valoran- It had forelimbs in addition to its wings and legs, and a strange eyeless face. And many other things, no doubt. Then the pulses of spores and gas flowed out, and Twitch's thoughts were interrupted as his fur flattened under the fierce rush and darkened as the particles caught in it, even under the zombie's bulk. His eyes were safe under his goggles but his nose was filled with the miasma (viroids, fur, reptile breath, spores, other smells), overwhelmed by the suddenness. The gas stung and he sneezed heavily, but only once, his internal ecology already adapting to the newcomers.

Twitch fought in the one and only way he knew. Excising himself from under the zombie in an instant, he ran hunched through the open, taking advantage of the thick gas. His ears were wide, and between the sound of the dragon's voice and the shifting of its wing-claws still discernible through the mayhem, he let his eyes focus where he thought the thing's under-arm would be, ignoring the flashes of fire and steel. A flexible place, if it used those wings to fly. Little room for armour there. Twitch released the trigger.

Vash flinched as the dragon made its presence known, not expecting something so menacing, so insanely fast, so… legendary. His gaze remained locked on the creature for a few seconds as his mind raced, trying to think up a plan of action, before Vash choked on the toxicity spreading through the air, and he quickly pulled the fabric of his coat up over his mouth. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the entire team together — everyone having just been thrown into a fight with the mighty dragon. In particular, his eyes widened sadly as he caught sight of poor Whitney, the girl who was so afraid to see anyone else die, caught in the middle of it all as she struggled to withstand the dragon’s poison.

He then watched as various party members, particularly Archer, prepared to strike, and almost instinctively, Vash prepared to stop them. But, he hesitated. His thoughts returned to the last dragon they fought in that cavern. Very quickly, the fight turned from trying to defend the dragon to needing to defend his teammates, and himself. And that’s when Vash realized: he couldn’t handle a fight like this the same way he handled fights on Gunsmoke. While a human life could be so easily extinguished with a single bullet, a dragon like this was not at all the same. He didn’t have to worry about anyone taking it down with a single blow. With the previous dragon, it seemed unlikely; with this dragon, it seemed impossible. It would, no doubt, take everyone quite a few hits to bring the dragon anywhere near death. In the case of his teammates, though…

The sound of a gunshot rang through the area, soon followed by another, as Vash fired an expertly aimed shot at the base of each of the dragon’s wings, hoping to at least somewhat limit the amount of pollen being thrown into the air. Vash still didn’t approve of killing the dragon, and if the others’ attacks started to go to far, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. But as things currently stood, his teammates needed protection from that dragon far worse than the other way around, and he couldn’t allow the dragon to harm any of them.

Sorin once again began to lambast the blond man, "It no less than astounds me..." He left off, sensing a significant presence quickly approaching.

He silently tightened his focus, feeling out this mass of mana that was rushing toward them. It was Red and Black, both signatures equally distinct. Sickness and fury, hunger and death. Sorin immediately began to draw on the mana of the area, gripping his sword just as the dragon struck.

Sorin took no time to gawk at the strange beast, as he rushed about to evade the toxic attacks of the creature. However, the corruption of the environment had an added bonus for Sorin: the area became closer aligned to Black mana, making his spells easier to form and cast. Continuing to weave between attacks, he summoned a handful of vampires to harry the dragon, same tactic as before. However, with the more bountiful mana, he was able to expend extra effort in imbuing these vampires with the power of flight.

Seeing the blond man behin to lay into the dragon with a volley of shots from his weapon, Sorin laughed and called to him, "Have you come to value your life, now?"

“Hm. I may not be as young as I was back in the military, but age hasn’t rendered me inept of leading.” Yes, Balalaika could confidently say that about herself, and it was clear by the floating girl’s tone that nothing would be able to get past her devil may care attitude. Nonon wouldn’t be able to see how Hotel Moscow carved out a home for themselves in a city filled to the brim with insane criminals and loudmouthed tyrants. As well as Balalaika would never witness the wonder of Satsuki defeating countless academies in the creation of Honnōji. Frankly the accomplishments of the latter massively trump the former, and it would only serve for the boot to further smudge the dirt of shame in Balalaika’s face knowing that Satsuki did so at such a young age. But the Russian woman didn’t know about the future accomplishments of a Japanese teenager, and those far away thoughts would be the last thing to come to mind once the legendary dragon attacked.

The beast itself was far more monstrous and terrifying than she could have imagined, and moved like nothing that inhabited late 20th century earth. At the sight of the incoming dark-like matter being launched at the group, a strategic retreat was in order. Nothing so significant as to spell defeat, just far enough to exit the firing zone. Now behind a tree, the woman in question watched her fellow challengers advance, and looked to her hip where the gun she carried rested. “No, this won’t do a thing…” Her hand hovered over the pistol for a few moments, clenched into a fist, and then went crashing into the side of the tree. It seemed like there was absolutely nothing the blonde could do to help in this battle.

A scowl practically crept over her face thinking that she’d be useless even if she had the sniper rifle that saved comrade lives. Her eyes flickered from person to person, desperately trying to find purpose, all until she saw what Twitch was doing. The rat scampered along, making his way in very close to the dragon. Maybe the rodent had some sense in him after all. Could it be that the beast wouldn’t be able to reach attackers if they fought from its underbelly? It made sense, as it’s limbs wouldn’t be very effective from that angle… “Everyone who lacks ranged weaponry, try moving in under the beast! It shouldn’t be able to reach you from there! It may also be weak in those areas! If we can cripple it, it won’t be able to fight back!”

So the woman was barking off orders, while everyone else fought to the death? Only the weak would willingly idle about in sight of a perfect fight, Kane knew that. But at least she proved to have some purpose, unlike the galactic fool who crawled behind some rocks like the pathetic worm he was. And what use were the useless in a competition like this? Not very much, really. Kane really wanted to hurt something, and Ba’al would look like a prime candidate the more and more he faltered. But Kane wasn’t stupid, he understood that the man’s skills could come in handy in different situations, and was willing to give the man a chance to prove himself. It didn’t help that the goody two-shoes Vash and others wouldn’t take kindly to one of their friends being burned alive, so the masked giant instead focused his time on the dragon that swooped in.

The miasma itself wasn’t too hard to avoid, Kane was quick enough to dive under the large zombie that the group had. The remaining darkness that seeped through proved to sting at his flesh; while painful, Kane couldn’t love it more. Barely anything a mortal man threw at him managed to register, so this experience was a godsend. His breathing became heavy and audible with his fingers clawing at the dirt on the ground. There was a need in this man to dole out the pain he’s taken and then some, and if he hurried, maybe everyone else wouldn’t get to the dragon first. At first chance Kane stood from his cover, raised his arms into the air, and then brought them back down again. Like a shotgun blast, flames erupted from the ground on the upper half of the dragon, targeting its front legs and head. One way or another, this thing was going to meet its end.

As the dragon breathed out its corrosive breath, it kept track of everyone through infrared, their heat lighting up the area enough to the eyeless legend for it to react to the counterattacks leveled at it. Something was coming at it fast, imbued with the anti-thesis of Dragon. It was slim and long, held in the hand of one of the taller prey. A head on clash was ill-advised. Being an ambush predator, the Gore Magala was not above using dirty tricks to fight troublesome opponents. Hidden horns sprung out from its ducking carapace covered head, glowing with violet energies as it ducked its sinuous neck and used the force of the horns to throw the point away from the beast for a while. Ebony bone met dragonslaying metal and fractured slightly from task of pushing away the dangerous thing and flinging Archer off balance for that moment.

Ranma, who had not the brains in her current mental state to avoid the attacks leveled her way shredded the ball with nails that could rend iron like butter- and caused a dark explosion to engulf her. Pained yowls emanated from the girl as she writhed within her self-made crater. Had she been a regular human, the blast would have been enough to rupture her body apart. Being a superpowered martial artist from Nerima, the girl was back on her feet a moment later... though looking much more pained. Spitting a bit of blood from her mouth and struggling to keep herself from falling down again, the immensely battered and darkened girl stumbled towards the thing, her body framed with dark vapors that were flowing from the many burn marks and raw welts that scarred her small frame, each step causing the shaking girl immense pain if the stumbling and trail of darkened blood was any indication. Still, the currently feral girl continued her maddened charge towards the reptile, intent on revenge.

The alchemist's sword proved sufficiently sharp enough to dig into the bone armor of the dragon, and yet was hindered by its weight and cautiousness of the wielder to get close enough. As a result, while he was cutting the thing, it was far too shallow to draw blood and was doing the equivalent damage of scratching a car's paint job with a key rather than taking a sledgehammer to smash it with. The fire on the other hand was sufficiently powerful enough to cause the beast to bellow out in pain as the flammable fibers ignited for a brief moment, filling the air with the smell of burnt fur. Then the dragon blew it apart with a more concentrated dark aura, smothering the ignition with pure brute force.

Sufficiently angered by the attempted immolation, the thing was caught off guard when a bolt and several bullets smashed into one of its weaker areas, the the underside of the wings. Though both were expertly shot, the spawn of an elder dragon was very well armored. Even among giant wyverns, who could shrug off the sharpest steel with ease, the Gore Magala was particularly well armored by both scale and bone as well as sheer mass considering it was as long as three elephants and as high as two. More blows to those spots would be required to punch through, though it had certainly felt the attacks to be sure. The weak spot was dented and aggravated the dragon enough to start a frenzied barrage of claw sweeps that dug deep divots in the mountain and punched holes in the cliff face with startling ease.

Then it was lit on fire yet again, though this time much in a much more upfront manner by a brawny wrestler and set upon by a couple of vampires and a berserk person who thought of herself as a cat. Pumping her arms furiously, the darkened girl clawed at the beast's underside while the vampires bombarded it from above, every hit causing sparks to fly as ki infused fingers struggled to pry open a layer of thinner yet still rather hard scales that were far superior to modern steel.

Though with the girl's relentless attacks that could have blows strike a hundred times within a few seconds and the superhuman strength imbued to most Ranmaverse martial artists, it wasn't long before the girl managed to pry enough of a handhold and peeled gave the thing gouges that uncovered much softer flesh underneath. Unfortunately before the girl could further break through, the dragon's darting mouth managed to snag a vampire and crunched on it with enough force to kill the thing in one blow while splattering the immediate area with spurts of blood. Swallowing its meal, the re-energized thing scooped up the surprised pigtailed girl and slammed her into the mountain side before pulling back its wing arm to crash it into the crater again, smashing her even deeper into the unrelenting stones before bellowing its rage in an eardrum rupturing roar that further spread its miasma about.

Saber

No more time could be wasted. If this creature was weak to the element of a dragon, and it was harming her allies so badly. Archer's attack had been deflected, the redhead was seriously hurt even though she seemed to be striking back at the thing... and it tossed her away! She was smashed into the rock, so hard... Saber could only hope she was alive. She could not attempt to reach her and simply ignore the immediate threat, there was no chance of that. Instead, she took a moment of focus... and prana flared up inside her. She had the Factor of a Dragon, and if this beast was weak to such things...

Her prana manifested. Invisible Air dispelled, showing, for a brief moment, the gleaming silvery blade of Excalibur. But it was rapidly obscured, engulfed by a torrent of raging prana swirling up to consume the holy sword. Prana Burst was what granted Saber strength far beyond her appearance, both in her time and as a Servant. It also had... other applications. She could bathe her weapons in the blazing magical energy. And, as she possessed the Factor of a Dragon, that meant that this must be considered a dragon element. At least, she believed it to be the case.

The dirt was torn up under her feet as Saber burst forward, aiming to take the dragon before it could react. The air rippled around her, whipping past the blonde knight as she made to deliver a strong, two-handed attack(the basis of her swordplay) ripping across the dragon's flank!

---

Jakuzure Nonon

Did the dragon really have to be a complete and total weirdo? Was that really necessary? Couldn't it have been, well, a regular dragon? Not this freak of nature? Really now, Nonon was just annoyed about that. ... And now people were getting hurt. Well damn it. The dumb redhead acting like a cat especially. That looked pretty nasty... A stream of pink followed the tiny girl as she soared through the skies. Taking a position in front of where Ranma had impacted, the cannons mounted on Nonon's shoulders flared to life. They might be idiots, but she wasn't just going to let the thing kill people.

"I'd hate to ruin my symphony with your roars of agony, you ugly bastard, but I don't have a choice this time!"

There was a resounding Hallelujah chorus as beams composed of giant pink hearts streaked through the air and tore right for the draconic beast.

"Yeah!" Sazh yelled out in triumph as the blazing attacks struck true, bringing fire to the dragon's flammable bits. The creature cried in pain, writhing in the inferno it was caught in. A short-lived moment, alas, as the beast so soon thereafter generated some black aura and blew away the flame with its own brand of magical power. Damn, so much for that.

The other fighters in the group didn't hesitate in going to town on the monster, Felt and Archer lashing out with their blades and the vampire siccing his own magical minions upon the beast. While the swords barely managed to scratch at the dragon's hide, that martial artist still thinking she was a cat somehow managed to recover from that poisonous storm and rapidly hacked away at its underbelly. She seemed to be about to make some headway before the dragon swiftly chomped down one of the vampires and smashed the girl into a crater with unrelenting force. Sazh was almost positive she couldn't have survived that.

"Agh, no- dammit-!" the l'Cie swore, angered at the presumed death of a combatant to this thing and torn between fighting it or protecting his allies. Whatever he could throw at the Gore Magala, it could shrug off, it seemed; Sazh even held his doubt about his fire-infused bullets, normally combining stopping power with magical burns to scar on several levels. Putting a hand to his mark, the l'Cie considered summoning his Eidolon... but even then, there was no guarantee she would be their ticket to victory, and with such limited usage, too. Better to be used as a last resort, he decided. Sazh gathered energy with his brand, drew his pistols, and channeled fire energy into a short hail of bullets, pelting anywhere on the dragon's hide he could hit.

Seeing Felt having to fall back from the assault a bit, Sazh called out to the alchemist, "Hey! Hold still, I think I can give you a bit more edge to that blade!" Assuming Felt cooperated, Sazh concentrated on his brand again, it glowing a light orange with its usage. In the next moment, the pilot flung out his arm, throwing a magical aura into the sword and charging it with fire magic. "Alright, let 'er rip!" Sazh called, hoping a more heated and blazing sword would be of greater effect on this creature.