Dragons and Demons

[Alyssia Kanath]

Prologue:

As Alyssia, Katryn and Khandril stepped through the moongate into Sosaria the Thunderlord immediately felt a weight settling upon her shoulders. There was something about this world that made her feel, for lack of a better word, old. With a sigh, she glanced around to see which gate they had randomly exited from and immediately noted that they were outside the city of Vesper.

“Well, traveling will be faster now that we can use our runes.” Katryn smiled, looking to Alyssia and looping her arm through her wife's.

Giving an absent smile, Aly nodded. “Aye...” She patted Katryn's hand gently and adjusted her heavy pack.

Khandril turned and looked to them, “Thank you for this. I have things to prepare. But I will come for you upon the next moonless night. Once this deed is done, I will consider our debts settled.” Her soft voice seemed unsure. Almost regretting the boon she had asked of her former friend.

“Are you gonna ever tell me wha' this is all about?” The warrior sighed.

“Yes.” And with that, the Vampire was gone. It happened so fast that Alyssia and Katryn both blinked. One moment she was there and the next only the long shadows that surrounded them in the forest.

Alyssia looked to Katryn and sighed again. “Go, I'll meet you there.” Knowing better than to question her wife, considering her current mood, Katryn nodded quietly and opened her rune book.

Aly watched quietly as her wife recalled home to Stormguard. Rubbing her face wearily, she took a deep breath and shook her head. “What next? Fuck me...” And with a silent summoning of magic, azure sparks of energy swirled around her body and her form disappeared within the magic. The bits and pieces converged into a single bright glowing ball of electricity before her pure energy form shot away and towards her destination.

Unfortunately for Alyssia, they had not been able to enjoy home for more than a few hours before the weary women were confronted with someone upon their doorstep. Sitting in the common room and speaking to Fiona and Aiden, the wards on Stormguard's perimeter warned Alyssia of Deidre Dauthi on her property.

Deidre's voice echoed in Alyssia's head telepathically. How she had done it, Alyssia wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. ~”Alyssia Kanath. It is time.”~

She had exited the home and spoken to Clive's sister briefly, asking what she meant. Deidre informed her that all those months of her helping to teach Clive how to restrain his mind, how to defend against the Laceot that threatened him were about to either pay off or fail miserably. It was about to consume him.

She was exhausted. But she could not allow Clive to fall victim to this madness. For the sake of all she loved, she had sworn to him that if he lost control of himself she would do what she could to ensure the safety of everyone. It was an oath that Deidre had made as well.

Alyssia did not want to scare Katryn. She just walked in to the house grimly and begun putting on her armor once again. Katryn and the others were curious. Asked what was going on. Aiden and Fiona got a bit angry when Alyssia put an iron curtain down upon the psychic connection that Aiden maintained for the family, effectively walling her mind off to their prodding. She could not take the chance of this creature infiltrating them as well were she to fall. She saw their worried looks. Saw the darkness in Katryn's eyes.

Alyssia was home now. She had...responsibilities. The weight of the world fell once again heavily upon her shoulders. The end of this night would determine the fate of many and they would probably never realize it. If Clive fell to this influence...the creature's murderous rage would throw itself against the entirety of Sosaria.

After holding Katryn for a few moments and whispering words of love, she slipped away and out the door. Deidre opened a portal to Clive's keep. But before Alyssia could go through, his sister handed the Thunderlord a small, black crystalline orb. “If my brother falls and you fail Ms. Kanath. I must ensure that he does not live. If this orb turns red...” She seemed to hesitate, voice soft and eyes afraid. “You have five seconds to escape the island before it explodes.”

Alyssia stared at her for a moment. “It is times like this I am thankful for my abilities.” She murmured. She wasn't sure five seconds was going to be enough, but she prayed it would be....

With that, she stepped through the portal wondering if she would ever see her family again...

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OOC: As far as what happened last night...I'm making Clive write that one up!

[clivedauthi]

Pt. 1

On the Island of Dauthi, within the great sea of Tokuno, the evening moon casts down upon the lone small island, the place where the once great fortress of the Soldats once stood, now bare save an area of blackened tile. The figure of a man sits in its center, upon a sheet of darkening glass. The silhouette of a ship lingers in the distance. Nothing stirs.

Pain had become a constant echo in his life, all his great memories scared yet beautified by the baptism of pain. This moment would prove to be the greatest of yet, as his body drifted in the burning sea of ripping, gnawing, clawing, grinding and leeching.

He heard something outside, something in the real world, calling him back from the sea, calling him to his body once more, he began to become aware of the world around him again, pushing back the waves of pain, the feeling of muscles moving like worms to their own accord, the feeling of shell grinding upon shell in ever-drifting collisions.

It was a voice, calling and beckoning, light a light house in the night, drawing him closer to the conscious world. He heard it call him again, and knew it to be the Thunderlord.

His eyes opened, orbs of blackness greeted the world, all the yellow of his eyes that once stood dominate,now lost save the smallest of slivers.

His eyes fell upon her, she had come dressed for battle, this was good. He could smell her now, the interweaving of flesh and leather, the tones of blood and bone, the sent of prey and food. He hardened himself, and spoke.

“Alyssia”

They spoke, but for how long he could not tell, nor could he remember the words they uttered; the world was growing dark for him again, the onslaught of pain forever pulling at him, like the strong currents of the sea, dragging him further and further down.

Then she was next to him, kneels and focusing her eyes locked upon his own. He could feel the air around them grow hotter, the stands of azure energy like drifting ghosts floated about them.

His eyes drifted down only once, the glass they sat upon was growing darker, as his eye lids began to close, he glanced up once again, the eyes of Alyssia Kanath caught his own once again, and then he steeped into the darkness.

He believed in the power the Thunderlord held, and now he would see if his wager would pay out.

In the blackness of his mind, he waited, he would not have to wait long he knew, for ever now he could feel the gravity of its bulk rising from the depths, a great behemoth of claw and tooth, but more then all, a hunger that knew no end, no reason, no mercy, a hunger that if let loose this night, would rampage within the world till put down.

If it could be put down.

The stands of Azure and Gold where forming now in this realm, crawling into existence around him, weaving and binding growing and encircling, a web of burning azure and gold pushing the darkness away.

He focused, he had trained for this moment, and he would beat this test just as he had beaten so many before, he would not allow such a fate to transpire as long as his strength held.

Chains of crackling and ripping yellowing forming from him, lashing and twisting like stands of living lighting tied and bound. It was a slow process, one taught to him by the Thunderlord, molding the once sporadic to the now precise. Building the chains which would bind his demon anew.

Five chains to be molded, five chains to hold it in the darkness eternal, each with their own burning jagged ends to forever scar and remind It of His dominance. All his reserves went to them now, all of his hopes and all of his will.

Like the most faint of breezes he could feel heat passing over his skin in the world above. Alyssia would have seen it by now, seen it coming in the glass, reinforcing it with her own will.

The chains had grown longer, and grew still, floating like lines cast by a great fisherman, drifting though the holes of the burning net that would be his protection.

Then it was upon them.

Like a dread pirate's ship parting the mists to fall upon an unsuspecting vessel, it parted the darkness below them. A thing of pure malice, a clockwork beast turning only to feed its eternal gluttony. A great insect, the alien birth of centipede and mantis, a leviathan of reaching scythes and snapping maw. The Laceot of Clive of Dauthi.

It did not stop to regard them, nor hesitate to bellow, it mouth opened to show the endless rows of black daggers that shadowed down its throat, the dripping green electricity from its for pincers,and then it crashed head first into the burning barrier, a convulsion of heat and sound exploding out into the endless black.

He could feel the ground in the world above moving, shaking with trimmers from the conflict going on within his his soul and body.

Its great pincers biting down over and over upon the burning web, it's great scythes plummeting from the darkness to try to rend the guards keeping it from it's prey only to rise once again to the darkness in defeat.

His body was sinking, the glass under him like quick sand, the great beast calling it to it's dinner table. The Thunderlord had gotten under him, her body pressing against his as the unnatural gravity pulled upon him.

He had trusted in her this far.

The chains where longer now, and growing still, they floated down side the beast’s great length, disappearing into the shadows below to the parts still hidden. The Laceot did not seen, its eyes focused on the meal that would release it form this dark void, release it to a world of food.

Burning arrows of azure flew past him, like the great rockets sent off upon the Imperial holidays of the Empress. The great creature roared in furry, pulling its head away from the sudden barrage, its great scythes sweeping at the air in front of it, trying to keep the bolts from its face, buckets of burning green pouring from its mouth as it slung to and fro.


He could hear the calls of the Thunderlord now, calling from the high distance above, the tone of furry and anger in her voice. She had wished him to hurry, to bring aid to the fight, but he turned his head. She would either hold, or they would die.

The chains had reached the last of the great behemoths legs, deep and far within the darkness, beyond the scope of his eyes. He sent them to wrapping, crawling like the muscles that now crawled in his body, worming their way around the legs, across the great shell, coming now back up, entangling as they ascended.

But the beast had noticed its great host of black yes looking downwards, the decoy of net of bolt now seen, and a furry now provoked.

It roared in fury, the world above them shimmer in trimmers of power, it's eyes fell upon him, fell upon her, a feast it would have, a dinner that would no longer be put off.

It's great maw opened, a burning shadow of green building deep within its throat, growing closer and brighter, a sound like that of a raging river crashing upon rocks rose with it.

He had seen many outpouring of energies in his years, be it by the hands of the powerful or the engines of sorcery and war, but he had yet to seen something of this caliber.

The great wave of green light ripped through the darkness towards them, twisting and turning like a great current, it would only be a seconded before it crashed upon them, a seconded before the efforts of Dauthi and Thunderlord shattered away in once brilliant display of raw power.

But that was not to be.

The tide of green met blue burning scales, scales of electricity and power. The impact thundered out into the blackness, and when the sound had subsided he looked up.

The great dragon of burning azure light looked in defiance to the great Laceot, its scales of burning power blinding into its many eyes.

The two great creatures of power regarded their enemies for only a moment, before they answered in matching calls to war.

The great wings unfolded from around him, and the shadow of the dragon passed over him, it was faster then he would ever guessed something of its bulk could be, for as soon as he regarded its passing it had fell upon the Laceot, its claws of burning blue ripping into the shell of the great insect, the sudden attack meet with matched rage as the the scythes swung to meet burning scale. The great blows it cast upon it shimmed through the great construct dragon of power, the lights that gave it life flickering with each monstrous blow.

The dragon roared again, and its great jaws fell closed upon the maw of the great insect, its glowing teeth piercing the mouth shut, its burning claws digging into the forehead of the behemoth.

They did not have long.

The chains had been busy, they had reached the bottom of the creatures forehead, the last great segment of its bulk now entangled. They borrowed now, the jagged twisting ends of lighting drilling into the thick shell that guarded his demon, plunging into the strange tissue that law under it. The great chains crossing, strengthening, the pattern growing in complexity and depth.

He was upon the Dragon's shoulder now, his eyes watching as the nightmare within him struggled to free itself from this new captor that had dared to cling to its face. It must have been in great pain from his chains he knew, he could feel that in his soul in the place where they meet, but the great thing had paid no notice to them, its furry and strength fully invested in the battle it now fought.

If ever there had been a time of envoy it was in that moment.

And then their eyes meet, though it’s where many and his where only a pair, he felt as if he could look in each one of the gathered congregation, within each pew a portal of black hunger, and so he moved forward. Forward to death, or rebirth, his heart was pounding, his blood seemed to stand still.

“It ever there was a tribute to be made to my Goddess, this shall be my greatest..”

His hand laid upon face of the Laceot, azure sparks of the Dragons maw dripping down upon them, their eyes closed. The struggle of the Laceot ending.

And then his battle began.

[clivedauthi]

pt. 2
Death


To mist and bone he opened his eyes, now lavender in their purity, the world around him a dim shade cast by the ever-moving fog. He could feel the bones pressing against his bare form; he had suspected such, somewhere inside of him he had known he would face the Laceot on equal terms.

He could feel the vibrations in the bones, the ever growing crackle and crunch of distant carrion being crushed and rustled by a oncoming mass. He did not need the beasts roar to reconfirm it's onslaught, but it delivered one never the less.

Standing he turned toward the sound and began his march forward, stepping over the bones of the ever growing, and forever hidden pile. Each had served a meal for the beast, and each had been sent by him, be it by sword or pen.

The current was becoming a stream, and vibrations making the world around him come alive with sound, it was close now, and he still without a place to make his stand. His eyes moved swiftly trying to take in every detail as it become unfolded from this mists.

The mist he had noticed was not consistent in this place, that where where great patches where it was light and he could look upward and see someways into the eternal gray sky; and equally dense areas where he could barely see past his own reach.

It was from one of these areas that the great Spin presented itself, coming so abruptly from the fog that for a moment he had thought his enemy had somehow got ahead of him.

The great column of bone stretched upwards into the mists, being easily thrice his girth, his eyes lighted to life as he gazed upon it, the memories of its once mighty bearer flashing behind his eyes. The great plague dragon, and that fateful day at sea. Had not it's riddance been one of his last great deeds before fate led him to Sosaria?

“This will do”

He began to climb, jumping in great jumps and bounds the sound of the Laceot's now speeding charge ever growing louder, the bone under him vibrating; till at last he came to the summit of the spine's arch, the world around him transformed into a sea of eternal fog.

An so he waited, the charge of the beast growing into a world shattering thunder, his eyes straining to see further into the wall of fog. Then the world went quite, the great spine constant vibrating ceasing, he flexed the back of his hands, feeling the black blades of carapace erupt from his finger tips.

The spine exploded from under him, the hungry maw of the Laceot rising up through the bone as if water, bone shards raining down from its head as the great spine buckled.

Five great slits of blackness, rabid and gluttonous, looked down at him; he had extended his claws at the last moment, shielding him from most of the bone shards, though more then a few had manged to fast and had lodged themselves into him. He looked up at those hungry eyes, blood running from his lips as he felt the bone under him fall away, and grinned.

The Laceot retracted into the fog below him, the odd gravity of this world only slightly slowing his fall, he knew it would be waiting for him on the ground, it's great jaws and scythes ready for his decent into death.

He moved his body pointing himself toward the growing shadow in the fog like an arrow. He would meet it head on. Electricity already was begging to covering in his arm, he would end this in one move, and put an end to this living nightmare.

So he fell, his right arm a beacon of light and heat, and then he came to it. The fog grace way to show his waiting hunter, its jaws opened in four great lengths each pulsing with black razor like teeth, its great scythes already reaching up for him, eager to pull a meal to its maw.

He moved only slightly to dodge the rushing scythes, like a hawk diving through a nest of dragons, his right claws extending like a great lance. His lips moved in prayer and glorification of the Noir. He readied himself for death or greatness.

The shadows on the fog between him and the now very close maw shifted, and it took only an instant to see his miscalculation, his eyes growing wide as he moved his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

The scythed arms had retracted, and now a wave of bladed carapace bore down on him, it had not risen it's arms to kill him in the air, but to wait till he got too close, so to entrap him like a wrestler holding onto an opponent, save there would be no holding here, only a quick gory display of rending.

He had only a seconded, with it he acted more with instinct then mind, his body twisting in the air a lash of red crimson exploding from his free arm's finger tips, straitening and hardening in his palm, with this makeshift pole of blood, he aimed for top of the highest claw, and placed his gamble.

The pole did not shatter fully, an when the impact came the leverage to push himself downward and outward held just enough momentum. His eyes lifted to see the lowest of the claws passing only a foot above his head, cutting the pole like butter; and then the world went black.

He crashed into the field of bones like a commit making its final resting place, a moment later a crimson spray ushering into the air, seeming to hue the very mists around it.

Then the world came back to him, peering now only through one lens, his left eye nothing more then a crater of it's own; he could see remnants of his skin around him, hanging off the now broken jagged bones like Christmas decorum, he tried to move, and felt the many fractures in his shell, small cracks eager to expand.

Pain he knew though, would be short lived if he let it better him now, for the bones around him had already begun to shake, and the creature would have no trouble finding him with so much of his blood in the air.

So he pushed, biting down as pain rippled over his now mostly skinless shell of a form. He could feel his body starting to rebuild itself, the strands of flesh crawling from the bones reaching across wounds to pull them shut, the alien blood crawling up from the bones, over his skin like swarm of insects, and back into his body.

He moved slowly, foot by foot climbing to the craters top, looking out once again into the sea of fog. His eye finished mending itself anew, though now only a black orb, useless in function, but at it's completion he saw the shadow of the beast grow before him. Charging in mindless rage, fueled by his blood's sent, a smell that equaled both meal and freedom.

He knelt, placing his right hand into the pile of bones, and waited. He had not the strength to outrun the creature anymore, the conclusion of the fight would be swift to whatever end.

It ripped through the final bank of fog, bellowing a cry as it's eyes fell upon the wounded man, it reared it's head back like in a serpents pose, its maw opening in four directions to unveil the razor labyrinth beneath; and then it striked.

His own four black claws ripped free from the ground ahead of him. They shot upwards like a volley of spears hurled from below, forming a spear wall in the process.

The Laceot crashed into them before it ever knew they had arisen, two of the claws ripping into a pair of its eyes, a wave of black ilk spraying into the air.

He pushed with all his might and jumped sideways, barely missing the bulk of the beast as it crashed into the ground, writhing and bellowing in pain; its many many scratching furiously to pull the two spears out of its eyes, its great head throwing back in forth as it roared in pain and rage.

This he knew would be his only chance, and pushing through the pain, holding his now fingerless right hand he tensed his legs, and pushed himself up and forward, running again; His body would re-mend itself as long as he kept his strength, but he knew the beasts would heal many times quicker.

There was only one fact he knew now to be true, to let it regain it's breath and fortitude now, would mean death.

Then he was upon it, the blood solidifying around his broken hand. Forming a crocked and ugly spear head of crimson.

The beast was trying to rub its head into the ground to pull the last of the spike from its eyes, only at the last moment, when Clive's hand rested upon it's cheek did it realize it's prey was hunting as well.

He grabbed the scaled hide and flung himself up onto the great mass of its head wasting no time to find one of the great eyes and thrust his hand forward, the spearhead of blood ripping into the soft eye-flesh.

He was bucked off the seconded later, the great arch of the beast's back lurched sending it's head looking directly upwards into the endless sky of mists.

He held his arm out, looking down its length like a sniper taking aim with his rifle, he could see the black gleam of it's blood on the spear end, when it lowered its head, he would finish this battle.

His body, his world, and for a moment even his mind turned to fire. A wave of energy enveloping and devouring him.

He had not seen in time the end of the beast's tail raise up opening itself up in a repulsive snap, had not expected it to could be a focal point for it's energy.

He hit the ground like a cannon ball fired astray, bones cracking and splintering, the odd soil of this place giving way to the gathered momentum as he dug into it, flipping and pushing him further and further along, like a doll tossed to the stormy winds.

The world came back slower this time, and with it a dullness, as if pain had abandoned him. His remaining eye looked down to confirm his skin had been ripped off or melted by the blast, with it the comforts of sensation. Now the remaining lavender eye looked out from his true self, a black shell in the shape of a man.

“To kill a monster,” he uttered, surprised by the capacity to speak, “One must become a monster...”

As he looked across his own body, he new he had, for what he saw did not appear different from the monster that hunted him, only now unveiled from the guise of skin.

Something had stopped his advance into the field of bones, and forcing he turned his head to see what mass he had to thank for his abrupt settling.

The giant teeth of the great dragon's skull grinned mockingly down at him.

The bones where starting to shake again, and looking outward he saw the shadow of his death now growing larger, twisting and turning like a great serpent on it's path towards him.

He couldn't meet it head on, without his skin to help him feel the mists move around him, cold to the world as he was now, he knew the battle would end quickly with his death.

Only one option left, and as the beast broke through the fog mouth open no intent of hesitation, he rolled his luck.

Dragon's teeth had always been the sharpest in his understanding, and they proved their worth now. The dragon' fang ripped into the head of the charging beast, cracking it's head's great forshell. The Laceot pulling back as it fell to the ground twisting and riving, its arms once again clawing at it's face to remove an intrusion, it's many centipede like legs retreating it into the mists.

It had cost him his right arm, and as he fell his blood pouring onto his long forgotten enemies bones. The world slowly started to hue black.

Then hope died.

A roar echoed out from the sea of fog, one full of rage and pain. It had survived, while his regenerative properties had met their limit, it's reserves seemed still fresh; a moment later the now all to dreaded clicking and shifting of bones turned the world alive again.

I can't afford another frontal attack

He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as this throat arose, he knew he didn't have the strength to stand, let alone attack..

It grew closer.

Only one choice then, the one he had never wished to take.

He placed his left hand on the side of his chest,and fleet nothing as he willed his own dagger claws to rip into his body; awareness came quickly though as he started to force electricity from his claws like fire whips into his own body.

The Laceot twisted in mid charge and fell to its side, skirting across a great length of bone as it rived.

The bond between beast and man had always been deep, drinking poison the last year to weaken the monster had taught him that; if he could not make a move, then he must at least insure his opponent can't as well.

He wondered though if he truly could, the Laceot was down yes, but it was still riving, and each twist brought it closer to him, he could see it's renewed fore-shell now, the recovering shell a tint lighter the that which had escaped the dragon's bite.

One black slit remained, the center most, the other lost in a useless see of lavender.

The energy was faltering, his body growing cold and numb. He could feel each of his ligaments slowly burring, the strings allowing his free movement ripped away by hot light. The blood was around his cheek now, it didn't strive to return anymore.

His hunter was growing dangerously close , its jerks where less powered, it's body too falling into the paralysis, but it's strings would be regrowing soon, very soon, and when they did it would leap in one great bound and swallow him whole.

The Laceot jerked again throwing it's body upwards, and for a moment Clive feared this was the moment he feared, it's head would come down maw open, a sea of black gnawing blades awaiting him.

But it fell short, the head never even turning down, like a great whale falling back into the sea. The ground shuddered, and when the dust arose he saw the beasts maw was within reach if he had been standing.

The beast seemed to be gathering it's strength, knowing that it's pray could not run, gathering enough of its reserves to both end it's prays life and enjoy it's prized meal.

The great head turned to him, their eyes locked.

“The difference, between you and I.”

He said softly, the great jaws slowly opening, the body of the beast tensing.

“Endgame.”

His looked at the blood that pooled around him, and forced the last of his will into it.

A line of crimson, no thicker then that of a pen, glinted in the mists. The great maw now unmoving.

He looked at the crystallized line of blood that erupted from the puddle just in front of him and smiled with skinless lips, he forced his head to turn just enough to look up, the blood spear had imbedded itself directly into the middle of the remaining eye.

A seconded later the ground shook for the last time, as the beast fell over, to join the pile.

Blood lost, body torn, the world of Clive Dauthi seeped into blackness.