Drache

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

There was a dragon roaring in the distance. It was a sound Drache heard regularly while in Pyresia, but here it seemed to stir her back to consciousness. Somewhat randomly she was able to tell that the owner of the hoarse bellow was male, but beyond that there was nothing she could surmise. In a daze, the crumpled half-dragon shifted about, wallowing a bit in the loose hay that had apparently cushioned her fall. A low groan erupted, repeating as she swam through both the straw and the daze that made her woozy.

Everything hurt. She could smell blood and knew that it was her own. Bruised limbs throbbed and minor cuts burned like acid up her belly and down her arms. One of her eyes would only open part-way. Threads of smoke were beginning to form a haze inside the barn and the horses being stalled there started to prance and whicker skittishly as the stack of hay smoldered with the flames that hadn't quite extinguished on impact.

Swaying, Drache felt off-balance. Her left wing felt cold. She tried to twitch it up to match the other and was met with an explosion of agony that took her to her knees, gasping in shock. Slumped on the dusty floor of the stable, she twisted to look at the damaged wing, a cold dread seeping down her veins.

"Ruined." She had to say it out loud, convincing herself it wasn't a dream-vision. The limb wasn't terribly mangled, but it was hanging at an odd angle and looked lifeless. The tattered hole in one of the membranes oozed hot red blood messily onto the floor and there was a break in one of the long phalanges that was already turning an angry purple, yet those things she didn't seem to feel. The true horror was that her radius and ulna had both snapped and were protruding from the strong muscles that attatched the wing to her back. There it dangled uselessly, bleeding a rivulet that crept down her back and thigh.

Drachiathoryx was far from being a Healer of any sort. Her magic could not fix this. No skill she possessed could undo this damage. Winng injuries were somewhat common in the dragon city and she'd seen what kind of damage could be overcome and what couldn't. With a nauseating hollowness she realized that not only would she never fly again, but the wing would have to come off before she bled to death. Even if the injury could be patched up there was no way it wouldn't plague her painfully the rest of her life.

A choked sob erupted from her throat and she tilted her snout back, fighting the hot tears of pain and anger that threatened to overflow. She could have handled the loss of an arm or even a leg, or even her long lovely tail. But to be deprived of flight?! Drache felt a grief coming for her as inexorable and terrible as a tidal wave. But not yet. She couldn't afford to sit there and bleed. She knew no one in this battle-hardened town and those that she had come with were none of them Healers, magical or otherwise. What she wouldn't give for an ally.

"What are you going to do?" Cinder. She'd almost forgotten him. He had made himself as small as possible and though his eyes were always fairly emotionless she got the impression that his fiery face was sympathetic, worried even.

Stumbling slightly as she headed for the light of the open stable door she shook her head slowly, still disoriented. "The only thing I can do, my friend. I must find someone to cut it off before I bleed out. My dagger was in my pack and I may never see that again, else I'd do it myself." She had no way of knowing where her belongings had ended up.

Tucking her arms across her chest, not out of any particular sense of modesty but more to keep herself from falling apart with the sick dread of what she had to do next, the half-dragon shuffled uneasily out into the light to find someone. Her amber eyes, somewhat dull now, hoping to catch sight of Mojavico. But anyone with balls and a sharp blade would do.

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

Mmm yummy. ;P

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

Vesenthicar and Mojavico landed hard in the grass. There was a strong scent of mud where the two downed dragons had torn up the turf as they bounced across the ground. Regardless of their superficial animosity and barbed remarks, the blue and the copper had long been a team. Both Tam and Galceledes lay unmoving, slumped in the dirt like slaughtered cattle. There was no readily apparent sign that either of them lived. Mojavico sniffed the ice-drake and shoved at his side. Even if they were dead, which would have been a tragic loss, it would be up to them to protect the bodies from harvested by bipeds. Especially with the demon city so close. Cannibalism was the preferred resolution to that problem.

Vesenthicar was having a similarly negligible reaction from Tam. "Go!" she spat.

Mojavico shook his head, the frill along his neck waggling stubbornly. "No. I should help you here."

"You need to help your pet half-breed. Look!"

Mojavico whipped his head around, quick as a viper, and took only a second to spot Drache in the air. How was it that a half-breed had brighter crimson scales than an actual dragon? There was little time to consider that. Shrieking with even more blood-thirsty intent, the Skeeters had clumped together in a swarm and were headed right for her.

"Damn these bastards back to the abyss they came from!" Flapping hard, the Harrok was airborn in a moment.

High above, Drache struggled to remain aloft. She had become more powerful than she'd ever dreamed but even now she had her limits. No one had ever told her for a fact, but she suspected that one more attempt at magic would kill her. Watching the massive creature fall in death had been satisfying as hell, but didn't solve her immediate problem. She could no longer spot Mojavico in the skies around her and she doubted many of the other dragons would lower themselves to carry her, the elitist wyrms.

Something foul and sticky struck her right in the stomach. Her eyes began to water right away as she looked down at the slimy substance. "What...? Ew! It spit on me? That's so rude! Dragonballs that smells awful!" Concerned and having lived with an acid-drake too long to trust strange substances she watched for signs of it eating through her vest. It didn't start smoking and her scaled skin didn't begin to tingle, but a growing buzzing noise made her look up.

"Oh shit!"

"I agree. That is what it smells like."

She didn't have time to ask the fire sprite how a creature made entirely out of fire could smell anything. She barely had time to examine her options. There weren't many, and there were fewer by the second. The city below would be safest, but that would mean bringing the frenzied shrieking hellbeasts with her. She could try to flee and hope that the dragons would come to her aid, but didn't think she would get far enough to make a difference.

"I think they're coming after me because of the smell."

"Perhaps you should take all your clothes off. That won't be any trouble for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

But it wasn't a bad idea. In fact, it gave her another one.

"Alright fine."

She turned back towards the city and dove. As she did so she carefully removed her pack, cringing inwardly as she let it fall. Hopefully she would be able to retrieve it later, but doubted it. But a small chance was better than it being certainly destroyed by what she was about to do. Using her claws, the busty half-dragon ripped her shirt off, balling the stinking material up in her fist.

"You'll have to do the rest. Cover me like you did in the old fire temple, but this time don't spare my clothes."

Cinder's round head nodded and the tiny flame creature seemed to spread out, the orange and red fire licking across her scales. It seeped down her back and across her wings, down her spine and out to the tip of her tail. The heat felt lovely to the dragonkin but did little to sooth her aching muscles.

The swarm of Skeeters dove after her, gaining momentum in their mad rage-fueled flight. As she drew closer to the city those seemed to smell her as well, abandoning their macabre feasting to rise towards the incoming fireball.

Cinder's flames quickly ate through all of Drache's clothes until she was naked apart from some jewelry. Her garments burned away in floating embers until she was free of the stink. Purified by fire. Turning back she lobbed the soiled shirt into the face of the closest Skeeter, and her fiery companion closed his protection over her hand.

She wouldn't know if it worked because at that moment her wings gave out and she couldn't cushion her descent, crashing haphazardly into the ground inside Gold Ridge.

Verissa and Asher (Story Continued)

It made Asher indescribably happy to see a smile blossom across Verissa's face at the sight of the blueberries. He knew that there would be even more wonders where they came from as it was still several hour to their destination. He ate a meal of blueberries, stashing some in a woven basket in the wagon to bring back to his tribe. If Wren were still around he'd have a wife and child to bring things to as well, but now he was just happy to see Verissa enjoying herself.

He stubbornly refused to give in to the constant questioning, but listened with interest to her speculations. This was more than she'd talked to him since they met and it was wonderful to learn just how knowledgable she was, to make such intelligent guesses, and also how imaginitive she could be. It startled him with Remilia dropped her head in his lap, but he was quick to take advantage, stroking the creature's head and ears. He never thought the dogs would take to him, and it was a distinct lesson about trust taking time to earn. Would Verissa ever trust him? She trusted him some, but deeply? Would he always be the man who kidnapped her from her home and was expected to claim her body like property?

Ash tried to ignore the intrusive blackness of his thoughts. Verissa was down with the flowers now, wading through them as she stopped to pick them. "It's not just the bees," he promised.

He grinned when Verissa ordered him down from the wagon and tied Phantom's reigns back up on the harness so that she could wander unimpeded. He tucked the herbalist's gear in his arms, handing it back to her when she needed it. He trailed along behind her keeping a watchful eye.

"There are lots of magical places in the Kerawac and not all of them are good like this. And they aren't the same. None are quite like this. You'll see." He sighed. For all the wondrousness of this place, there was something sad about it too.

As they moved through the fields the bees simply bumbled around them, working hard to collect massive amounts of pollen. It seemed that when their were laden they headed towards the same direction Asher was guiding them. Verissa would find practically every herb she had ever heard of that could survive in this balmy climate, each one huge and glossy and ripe for harvesting. Berry and nut bushes were nearly bent over from the weight of their own fruits. The wagon was soon packed with more herbs than Verissa could ever use by herself, but would go a long way to proving her worth and earning her respect with not just the Thunderfangs but the other tribes they might chance to trade with at the upcoming Gathering.

By midafternoon the breeze had shifted slightly and suddenly the sky was full of something that danced and fluttered on the wind. Hundreds, thousands of soft pink petals that had a faint but sweet fragrance and scattered over the pair. Turning to look at Verissa, Asher smiled. "We're almost there. Just over the hill now."

Leading the horse and wagon by the reigns, Asher lead the way, and at the top of the rise they came across a valley containing a single tree. But to call it that would be a disservice. By itself it was large enough to contain the entire village of Silent Rise. It had one trunk, a massive pillar of dark gnarled wood that rooted in more than one spot, dark shadows of secret crevices betweem the roots that could be seen even from where Asher stood. A large pond had formed in the rocky ground at the tree's feet, the clear shallow water bubbling up from some natural well and trickling down in a meandering southward path towards the ocean.

As they looked on, a gust ruffled the impossible crown of the gargantuan plant and a swarm of pink flowers lifted from where they were festooned on every bough, bearing them aloft to places unknown. The field around it was waist high with all the flowers bees love. Foxglove, sunflowers, chamomile, columbine. Snapdragons, crocus, and lilac. Zinnias, witch hazel, and goldenrod. A profusion of colour that Asher had never seen anywhere else and probably never would.

But if the sight of the impossibly huge tree wasn't enough, there was a feeling about it that was hard to deny. Asher had felt it before and knew the tree's secret. He took a chance and tucked his arm around Verissa's back, hugging her to his side.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Many of the tribes don't even know it's here. I thought you might like to see it. Shall we go say hello?"

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

The dragons had mostly been flying in no particular formation, zipping back and forth in graceful but aggressive arcs as they dog-fighted with the Skeeters. But they were not just dumb flying lizards and quickly caught on that something was happening. Galceledas wasn't terribly bright, nor was he the greatest aerobat, but he was as blood-thirsty as they came and mean as hell, and relished the idea that he would have a part to play in this that he could boast about later. He didn't manage to cover the entire creature in clinging sheets of ice and that was disappointing, but a moment later he cringed hard at the high-frequency blast that seemed to rattle his brain. And then he felt nothing at all.

Mojavico banked far across the plains from the flying Princess, banking around to come at the thing head-on. He could feel the weight of the half-dragon clinging to his tail and hoped she was ready for whatever crazy bullshit she was planning. His ray-like wings undulated quickly as the copper dragon aimed directly for the massive creature's head. When he judged that he was close enough, be banked again, cutting so hard to the side that he heard his spine creak and felt his wings falter. But that wasn't important. He slung his backside around and whipped his tail as hard as he could, using momentum and strength both to sling the fireball dragonkin towards the enemy. Only when he saw her red figure diminishing rapidly did he notice the Xarzi's form free-falling towards the ground. Mojavico roared in alarm, but knew he was much too far away to help his fellow Harrok.

Nothing could have prepared Drachiathoryx for the sheer amount of speed she picked up after letting go of Mojavico's tail. She was sure she'd ripped a few of his scales out in the process and he would most certainly sulk at her about that later. But for now she was soaring through the sky like a meteor, her wings locked only partly open to keep her righted. The abyss-cursed monster was directly ahead and it suddenly seemed very large and dangerous. But she'd seen both large and dangerous before.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea," she hissed.

"Oh? A little late for second thoughts, isn't it?"

"Just shut up and get ready."

She couldn't see Cinder at the moment but knew that he had emerged from the glossy black orb, a vague humanoid shape forming until he became a small biped made out of fire. He clung to her back and watched over her shoulder, his coal-black eyes round with interest.

Drache's clawed hands were down beside her thighs to help streamline her shape in the air, but as she summoned forth the power deep inside she opened her hands and let her claws cut into the cool sky. It was like running her hands through water or the purest silk. One moment the air was just air, but then suddenly she could control it. With a booming whoosh a column opened around her. She couldn't truly tell if it was pulling or propelling her forwards, but in truth it mattered little. She was going fast, faster. The eel-monster couldn't have turned out of the way if it wanted to. A white tail formed behind her.

The column of wind was a tunnel. Drache aimed for a spot just above the creature's head to pass over its serpentine, undulating, ice-crusted body. She took a deep breath and felt her chest surge with heat. A hot glow gleamed through the pattern of scales on her neck and arms. With a roar, she unleashed a fire-breath of her own, painting the monster with hot orange flame.

Her tiny companion fueled the inferno, lending his pure elemental power to hers, shaping it for her as she concentrated on controlling their wild flight.

Kra-KOOM! Ba-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-BOOM! Fire erupted down the length of the terrible beast in white-hot explosions, the heat trapped close by the arcane wind tunnel. Once she was over clear sky Drache extinguished the spell and immediately felt exhausted. She tried to turn to see if her work had accomplished anything, fighting her leaden wings, forgetting that the sky was still full of the smaller Skeeters.

Verissa and Asher (Story Continued)

When they slept in his tent there was less opportunity to stretch out. In many ways it was quieter than in the camp. No constant murmur of distant voices, no yip-yapping of the clan's dogs, no crying infants or scraping of cook-pots or anything like that. Asher hadn't even bothered to start a fire as the spring and his blankets would be warm enough and his belly wasn't bothered by hunger.

But that wasn't to say the night was quiet. Tied on a long lead to the wagon, Phantom occasionally shifted position or stretched down to pluck a mouthful of the green grass to snack on through the night. Nightbirds trilled, sweeter than the droning of the grasshoppers. It was peaceful, but seemed to sharpen the dull ache of loss in his chest that had persisted these last ten years. He missed Wren. He always would. Her death seemed too cruel and meaningless to have happened at all. But when Asher glanced over and saw the svelte line of Verissa's hip and waist shudder with silent tears he cursed himself for being selfish. How much had Verissa lost? Everything in her life except whatever he'd allowed her to stuff in a bag before he'd forced her out of her burning home and a pair of dogs, one of which was injured.

Drifting off into a restless sleep, Asher dreamed formless dreams of loss.

--

It was nearing daybreak when they woke, the wind already warm on their faces before the sun had ever risen. Rolling over and ignoring the chuff of warning from the dogs, Asher settled his hand on Verissa's shoulder, lettiing it slide over her blanket down to her hip.

"It's morning, lovely. Time to go."

The day was a beautiful one, the sky clear and the going easy. The winter rains had long gone and it wasn't yet hot enough to be overbearing. The further Asher drove them in the wagon, the greener the grass around them seemed to become. There was always a variety of plants anywhere a person could look, but here there seemed to be something encouraging them to grow larger and more productive than before. It wasn't long until they came to a patch of blueberries that were easily quadruple the size of regular ones.

As they stopped to gather some, a small flock of colourful finches raced each other through the thorny vines. Upon closer inspection they turned out to be tiny griffons.

And though they talked about many things while they traveled, it was clear that Asher was expecting the explosion of plantlife, but refused to divulge. He only grinned and shook his head, telling Verissa "You'll see."

At one point just after noon, they crested a rolling hill and came across an entire valley of lavender flowers, the fragrant purple crowns dotted here and there with chamomile bushes. As the wagon tilted down to carve a wake through the flowers, a honeybee the size of Asher's fist bumbled buzzily past his head. They were everywhere.

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

Let's see some shit go down then.

Verissa and Asher (Story Continued)

Asher's brow went up playfully and he couldn't help but grin at the blonde beside him. "Oh yeah? I like to think I'm a good teacher, and I'm glad you think so."

At her offer to show him what she could do, Ash's expression became one of undivided interest. His storm-grey eyes dropped to their lifted hands, the lavender glow reflecting off his face as he watched. Goosebumps raced across his arm as the shield seemed to flow across their hands. He couldn't feel it, but the idea that he should be able to feel what his eyes were seeing was eerie and made his skin prickle.

When it disappeared, Asher thought that the trick was over and was surprised and impressed that the vanishing of the glow was only the beginning. He tried to wiggle his fingers but could not. Following Verissa's prompting, Asher lifted his other hand and tried to poke at their joined fist. He found his progress blocked by something invisible. In some spots he got closer than others, and occasionally the unseen shield didn't seem as sturdy, but he was clearly in awe.

"There are so many possibilities for this in fighting alone," he observed. "Have you told Shenzi? I'm sure she could use something like this in the Healer's tent all the time. Like stopping bleeding maybe?" He wasn't a healer and didn't even have the words for some of the treatments he had seen the fox-faced Aesenshi perform.

While Verissa shared what she knew about her magic, Asher began prodding higher and higher on her arm, trying to figure out where the sensation of the shield started. Once he felt her actual skin, he didn't stop, letting his fingers trail up her arm until he held her chin gently in his hand. "You're very clever. And I don't think you need me to tell you that. If things were different..."

His brow furrowed and he dropped his hand, cutting himself off before he said something that might upset both of them.

"I think we're far enough from the camp for tonight. Should we stop? There's no need to set up the tent. We can just sleep under the stars and get an early start in the morning."

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

I hate to think of the chaos that would happen if Drache had a baby that was threatened. >>

All Cities Must Fall (Original, Accepting)

As a group the dragons angled their wings sharply to follow the gold hide of Tamaraniz and his rider into the oncoming swarm of bladed insectoids. Even those who were not part of the Pyresian Wing Host turned towards the battle with snarls and bared teeth, their reptilian eyes narrowed eagerly for the carnage ahead.

Tam's breath weapon alone had disrupted the spinning cone of buzzing bugs, half of them beginning to fall from the sky dead or dying as their metallic wings rusted away. They landed in squealing thumps in the grassland below, twitching like flies dying on a windowsill.

Mojavico positioned himself carefully in relation to the dragons ahead of him, cautious of being caught in the breath weapon of another dragon. As a fellow Uvelu he didn't have to worry about Tam's acid, but he had a fiery passenger to worry about.

The horizon tilted and he turned downwards at the ground. Ahead of him there was a blinding white flash as Vesenthicar unleashed her own weapon, white static building up on her stout skull until it ballooned out, jolting in jagged blue-white arcs from one skeeter to another until nearly two dozen fell, sparking, out of the air. Other dragons lashed out with claws and teeth, and upon realizing that the creatures were at least partly composed of metal, began snapping them out of the air like lizards lapping up crickets.

There wasn't much Drache could do except hold on and watch lest her claws loose their grip on Mojavico's tail during the dive. Like many of the other half-dragons, she had come to the conclusion that the best place for her would be down in the streets where the true dragons would be little help.

For her, the arc of blue smoke heading for the city, an order for the dragons to defend, was purely coincidental. It's what she planned to do anyways, until she saw where Tam was headed.

The Wing of dragons seemed to split in twain, the more seasoned fighters leveling out and heading towards the second swarm and the massive creature within while the older, fatter, and slightly less aerobatic dragons maintained a course for Gold Ridge. The dragonkin, apart from Drache, joined them.

Thud, thump, thud. Dragons landed on the ground just outside the city, their wings folding and their tails lashing as they fell upon the Skeeters. Fire and lightning crackled, different colours of light blossoming across the walls of the buildings as reinforcements for the villagers arrived. The half-dragons weren't all here as mercenaries looking for work, but most of them were familiar with bloodshed in some style or another. Drawing blade and cudgel, or simply unsheathing their claws, they rushed down the streets to mingle with Gold Ridge's defenders where they'd be most...effective. A huge scarred dragonkin with tattered wings and scales such a dark green that they were almost black strode right past Verissa and sliced a Skeeter in half with a pitted double-bladed sword, the strike so vicious that the flying body parts slaughtered the Skeeters on either side.

Back in the air, Mojavico and the other warrior-drakes had identified the eel-like flying centipede as the greatest threat. The huge reptiles circled the swarm, picking off the smaller Skeeters by the dozen. The Princess itself was far more agile than they were, turning sharply, almost impossibly, in midair. More than one dragon bellowed in rage as she watched her breath weapon streak uselessly through open air as the huge insect simply whipped around it.

"Here's an idea!" Drache bellowed, not sure that Mojavico would be able to hear her before the rushing wind whipped the words out of her teeth. Thankfully, the wedgelike crest turned slightly and Drache saw the light teal eye looking back at her. "This is all wasted effort if we don't kill that thing. It's too fast! I think I can be faster, but it'll work best if we can get some help! Are there any Xarxi in this Wing?"

Mojavico looked around. There weren't many ice dragons left in Pyresia and he didn't think any of them had joined this little excursion. The faintly-striped copper male ducked through a few straggling Skeeters, bashing them with his boney wings, before spotting a familiar stocky dragon in the distance. "There! Galceledas!" He turned towards the stocky, short-limbed drake and added as an afterthought, "By the hells, what is he even doing here?"

"I don't care, I just need you to tell him to ice that thing before I get there, and then tell Tam and that specky dwarf of his to get everyone to line it up straight if then can."

The half-dragon sounded certain, but Mojavico was having his doubts.

"And then what, may I ask?"

Drache grinned, a puff of smoke streaming from her nostrils.

"You're going to help me blow it up." She just hoped the true dragons would take orders from a half-breed.

Behind her and in the back of her mind she heard a crackling sigh.

"Work, work, work."