Breath of Fire VIII (3rd Avarice Fanfic)

[Avarice]

Officially, but one segment of the island cluster was left… and that last segment was Astaroth’s to destroy. Slowly, his expression an emotionless frown, Astaroth walked straight into the one and only settlement of the North Isles. The entirety of this place was holy, a shrine and temple unto their God.
As the guardians of the temple, a pair of monks vastly superior to many warriors from many cultures approached him. Even as they drew near did Astaroth calmly draw his sword. The blade’s hilt was shaped as a dragon, the cross-guard the wings of the dragon and the pommel the head of a dragon. The grip was of leather, textured and fitted perfectly with the contours of Astaroth’s hand. It was a straight bladed sword, of mirror-polished steel… lined around the perimeter of the edge in gold.
With a flick of his wrist did he send that sword through the neck of the monk on the right, spinning easily under the other’s nunchaku and drawing his sword up and through that man’s torso effortless, cutting hi cleanly in half. All about him did rise the monks, but as he came to stand in the center of their temple did an eerie light come into his glowing golden eyes.
Raising his left hand, his index and middle fingers together and pointing upwards, did he summon a circle of… white… flame. The significance of the color was in relation to the heat. This, the so-called ‘phantom flame’ burned as the surface of the sun. The monks, their bodies became as ash faster than they could break apart. Momentarily were left sanding a circle of ash ‘statues’ that slowly but surly blew away in the increasing winds… forever lost out at sea where they inevitably came to rest. But not all were slain, for one man had not joined the others in fighting this murderous ‘guest’.
“…Your power is magnificent.” The guru of the sanctuary said with a grim frown, “I would expect nothing less of a Dragon. However, I am curious as to why you would come to slaughter my people as you have so easily.”

Astaroth gave him a look. “In death, you shall learn of fire and the void.”

(End of Chapter 3) Four more to go!

Next - Chapter 4: The First Farewell

[Avarice]

Chapter 4: The First Farewell


Leo’s brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight, as Ananias sat up in bed that night and rocked his wide-awake son in a vain attempt to make the child even somewhat groggy. “You’re as stubborn as your father, you know that?” Ani asked the infant with a deep and loving smile, “I’m glad. But, I hope you won’t be too much like me. I’d feel really sorry for you, you know.”
The baby cooed and laughed, wiggling about happily in his loving father’s arms. It melted Ananias’ heart… he’d always been prone to babies to begin with, but this… this was his own… this was his son! “…Daddy loves you… Leo…” Ananias said quietly as he lifted his son and kisses the infant’s forehead, “Daddy loves you very much, more than he’ll ever be able to describe.”
Sherri rolled to her side then, but he had his back to her. Silently, she watched him with a smile and a tear in her eye. Soon she knew, he would be gone… and also she knew, there was no guarantees he would return. The cold lessons of mortality… they were learned every day. In her case, she was lucky to be one of the few given a second chance to come to the cold realization that no-one was invincible.
Anfini, who had taken of a disguise and had named himself Priest, had impaled Ananias upon his sword during one of the few battles they’d unknowingly fought with the truest of their enemies. Ananias had effectively saved his own life through the power of his mind, forcing his soul to stay within his body that the magics of Resurrection would work upon him.
…Sherri still came to tears thinking about it. To see him lying lifeless on the ground was beyond her ability to handle, the pain was just too great. Her sniffling drew Ananias’ attention, thankfully, and as he turned her broke those dark thoughts and cleared the fog in her mind. “Hey…” Ananias said softly, laying Leo down gently between them and laying as well upon his side, “He’s not upset… you can rest, baby.”
Oh, how those gorgeous emerald eyes sparkled. “I know…” She assured him softly, “I just can’t sleep. I’ve gotten so used to being up all the time with this little one… aww… look at him…”
Ananias smiled as Leo playfully swatted as his mother’s wagging tail. “Yeah…” He said quietly, stroking the baby’s head. “You’d better not die.” Sherri said bluntly, and randomly for that matter. “I won’t.” Ananias replied casually, as if he were assuring her he wouldn’t forget to pick up something at the market. “I’ll bring you back to kill you again.” Sherri warned him, “Don’t do it.”
“…You think I’d leave you two behind to go chill with Kaiser? I mean sure Sei’s got a fairly nice body but in the end her ass isn’t as fine as yours… oh, and it doesn’t have a tail, either.” Ananias replied, “And I mean sure she’s got a nice rack but, I don’t think her nipples are as perky as yours are… and…”
Sherri sighed over him. “I love you.” She said with a grin, which startled him. “I love you too… uh… aren’t you going to hit me now?” He asked in response, expecting her normal reaction. “You’re doing that intentionally, Ani. I know better now, don’t think I forgot what you did on Athena.”
Ananias smiled. She was referring then to his recovery after his most severe of injuries, when he had flirted with the idea of fondling Saphira and Vic as they climbed into bed with him. It had all been a show to begin with, their attempts to get his mind off his pain… but, in the end, he’d only wanted Sherri with him. That attempt was to make them angry so that they would leave.

Of course they’d learned almost immediately the truth, but…

Between them then did Leo begin to laugh madly, swatting at his mother’s tail furiously as his own begun to wag about subconsciously. “There’s the little hunter in him acting up…” Sherri giggled, “Oh… I do hope he won’t be as rambunctious as I was or you were… but, meh, I guess we’re screwed.”
Ananias smiled and lay his head down upon his pillow, staring off into space momentarily. Within his mind he felt a strange sensation… one he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “…What is it?” Sherri asked, recognizing the curiosity building in his eyes immediately. “Something’s up.” Ananias replied with a frown, “I need to go see Kime.”
Kime, the current clan-leader of the Trance clan. “Oh, ok.” Sherri replied with a slightly confused look on her face. “Sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can… hear me little one?” Ananias replied, his question then aimed at Leo as he lowered his head and kisses his son’s adorably spiked cheek.
Momentarily Ananias was gone, but thankfully for Sherri Leo didn’t seem to mind as much this time as he usually did. It even helped her get the boy to sleep, finally. “I hope you sleep in.” Sherri sighed as she lay her precious son down in his crib, “Mommy really needs some sleep… and lots of it…”
Truth be told, Daddy needed some sleep too, but Ananias felt ill. The sick feeling in his stomach was matched by someone else… that being Ryu. “Ananias… I was just coming to see you.” Ryu said as his old friend walked out in the hall, somewhat startling him. “I take it you’ve had another nightmare.” Ananias returned with a frown. “Yes. I saw them, on some islands… that I don’t recognize.” Ryu explained, “All I know is there are many people dead, an entire civilization.”
“…That’s what I know.” Ananias sighed heavily, his hand resting upon his churning stomach. “Where you going to throw up?” Ryu asked with a frown. “No. I was going to see Kime, and see if I was right…” Ananias muttered with a shake of his head, “But in the end… it’s just my way of putting it off.”

‘It’ being the reality their time of peace was running out, fast.

“Should we move to intercept them Ananias?” Ryu asked, “Can we handle them all at once? I’d love to swoop in and take them out before they ever truly got their feet planted good.”
Ananias gave him a look. “Before they get their feet planted, was before they even arrived here.” Ananias replied with a bit of a grin, “And as far as our ability to take them all on at once… heh… I don’t know that yet. They… blocked me.”
“…What?” Ryu asked in response, his voice growing thick in alarm. “Yes.” Ananias replied grimly, shrugging helplessly as he turned his gaze back into his quarters where Sherri lay with their quieting baby. “I’m sure Xenian had something to do with that, now didn’t he?” The calm voice of Sira asked from the side, drawing the men’s attention as she quietly came to join them. “Yep… after all, Ladon and Draconis alike were just two halves of him. Everything… we… are as Brood…” Ananias sighed deeply, “Is derivative of him, to some level.”
Sira lowered her gaze. “And he has created his own race… so, a mixture of Light and Dark dragons… like… Priest?” She asked fearfully. “No, entirely different.” Ryu replied before Ananias could, “Xenian is whole, there is no ‘light’ or ‘dark about him anymore. I can only guess his race will be made in his image, like all the other Gods made their races…” “…In other words they probably don’t have any particular focus on element… magic, strength… anything. They are neither ‘light’ nor ‘dark’.”
“Completed parts of a whole… not fragments, not halves.” Ananias added for simplicity’s sake. “So that means… they will be more powerful than we are?” Sira asked then with a frown, “If that is right, then the power given to us by Ladon would only be half of that given to them.”
Ananias and Ryu both nodded, neither were surprised by her intelligent observation. “I think that in general… that yes, they will be.” Ryu said quietly, as Ananias fell silent, “I can’t say for sure. But I know we are not a part of the ‘general’ audience.” “Either way, we aren’t the ones that will be doing the majority of the fighting. It will be our men, those who are of that sect. We have to think of them first and…”
A cry from above, one of the twins. “…I’ll be back.” Ryu said instead of finishing, as he was no longer sure whether he could actually back up such a bold statement of selflessness. “…We’re in trouble.” Ananias sighed as he turned a sad gaze to Sira, “Me, him, and Greywolf… heh… we’ve got different priorities now. Everything, and I do mean everything has changed…”
Sira lowered her gaze. “Lavoisier and I should put off having a child until this over then, shouldn’t we?” She asked quietly. “…I doubt it would make any difference one way or another, Sira.” Ananias returned with a shrug, “This is going to take… a long time. This is just the short silence before the storm… though the ‘storm’ is more like a hurricane…”
Slowly did Sira firm her jaw. “We’ll do like we’ve always done. It’ll only be a little different this time.” She declared with a shake of her head. “Yeah, but, the babies…” Ananias began to respond, shortly before she cut him off with a raise of her hand. “The babies were there as we battled Anfini, they just weren’t born yet. You nearly lost little Leo, Ani.” Sira replied, “This time it’s really no different, it’s just this time you have an even better understand that this is what we have to do, that we have no choice.” “…Maybe I’ll make a hypocrite out of myself by saying this… but, if I were a mother… or father, I would fight even harder knowing I was fighting not only for myself and the world… but my baby too!”
Ananias smiled softly. “Wise words, little girl.” He chuckled quietly, “…Hey, I don’t mean to cut out on you but, I gotta head out. Tell Ryu I said I’ll see him later for me if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.” Sira replied with a bow, “Bye, Ani.”

* * *

[Avarice]

To say Alma was tired the evening following her un-planned night in the jungle would be a massive understatement. She was sweaty, stinky, and totally unhappy about both but too tired at that moment to take a bath. Instead, she fell out in her yard. Rolling to her back, she stretched her stiffening muscles and sighed heavily as she regained a steady rhythm of breathing.
No-one would know she was back for awhile, but she liked it that way. After her mother had passed away she found it increasingly difficult to deal with other people… she supposed it was her way of subconsciously protecting herself from loss. She’d knew her mother was going to die… age had took her of course… but, that didn’t mean it was any easier for Alma to deal with.
After fifteen minutes of laying there in the grass did Alma finally sit up. She was glad to be home, she had begun to miss her old routines… which she fell back into quickly as she went about the ritual of readying herself a bath. Out here, they had no running water or electricity like had been had so far away to the East, over that endless sea of green that was the jungle.
As she collected water from the well she glanced sideways through the small patch of woods behind her home. There in a clearing she kept well-groomed and cared for was the grave of her mother. Smiling in memory of the woman, she refused to let the pain of not having her bother her… it’d been a couple of years now, she’d moved on for her mother’s sake!
Still, it was sometimes harder to do than others. As she poured that water into her bathtub did she sigh, a sharp memory coming back to her as she gazed upon herself in the water, her hair a wreck and her face grimy from so many days on the road. She’d looked this way, in this same exact spot, over ten years ago. She had just arrived, and her mother had looked the same…
They had come from the so-called ‘Holy City’ wherein had once stood a monumental cathedral to the God Agathis. Alma would never forget the underlying evil of that place, and how her father had forsaken them for the Church. Her mother had been a patriotic native, a practitioner of the old arts of the humans of the South. By the standards of that wretched church, the old arts were heathen and evil and were to be expunged… violently.
Alma would never forget the look on her mother’s face when her father had returned in the garbs of a priest. When he had demanded that she simply cast out the heritage she had so proudly proclaimed for all of her life, handed down to her by her forefathers. She would also never forget how desperately her father had pleaded with her mother to stay when he came to the realization she was truthfully going to leave him.

…When it had come down to it, the decision to be with his family or be with the church…

…That was were the memory came from. The memory of arriving at this place, the home of her family for as many generations as could be remembered. She could also remember her mother’s tears mixing with the bathwater that night, as she wept for the loss of her husband and the father of her confused and fatherless daughter.
Disrobing, Alma stepped into the bathwater only after heating it with her magic, the same magic her mother had taught her of for the entirety of her life. Lowering down, she sighed heavily as she dunked her luscious head of blonde hair beneath the water and began washing it. She’d taken her mother’s hair color but from what she could remember… had her father’s facial features. Her reflection, as it always had, reminded her of him again.
…Which brought about a memory that bothered her no matter how hard she tried to let it go. In a sick twist of fate, she had learned that nigh on eighteen years ago her father had abandoned the Church of Agathis, had rebelled against them… was even directly working against them to, of all things… overthrow them.
Alma sighed heavily, as the water then dripping off her cheeks was not entirely of her bath, but of her tears. Why could he have not seen what he must have come to see later on, from the start? Why did they have to leave, why did… why? Was he ignorant?

…Was he even still alive?

The last Alma had heard of her father was when her mother was still alive. Through the spirits of the jungle they had learned that humans had built something of a stronghold in the far reaches of the jungle (from their end, at least). The human in charge of the operation was… her father. That was when she’d learned of his loss of faith. Initially she had desired to venture there… but her mother had refused. By that time, her mother was already sixty years old, too old to make the journey… and she was too young, only around ten at the time.
Now, so many years later… there was nothing… no trace of him whatsoever. She had often contacted the spirits, especially after her mother had passed away. She’d tried her best to find her father but, the spirits had been unsuccessful in locating him. Then had come the great quaking of the Earth.
By all accounts from the Worens she often encountered on her alchemy-related trips into the jungle, the entirety of the eastern peninsula had been cut off and had sunk. The Holy City and the Church of Agathis alike were destroyed and gone forever, dark memories forever lost beneath the waves.

…Had her father been there? Was Nathaniel McKay still alive?

* * *

[Avarice]

Astaroth’s hair waved gently with the wind as he gazed out across the ocean, to the line on the horizon known already to him as the southern continent. “We should begin our assault there.” He said with a frown, “It is the largest land mass on Earth and has the highest population of living beings present. There are various races within these lands, various terrain we must overcome. Remember… no damage may be done to the Earth itself, enough has already been done.” “…Tharizdun, Lyris… I entrust this mission to the both of you, I also will grant in turn to you the highest number of soldiers available to us at this current time. You will take five thousand men, you will obliterate all life-forms of higher thought within those lands.”
Lyris and Tharizdun bowed, as Daragor and the other three stood silently in waiting for his word. “…Daragor. I entrust you with the slaughter of the Eastern lands. There are but two known settlements within, one fairly large but both easily destroyed by the power of your magic, as they are both port cities.” Astaroth went on with a sigh, “Malthius. I entrust you and you alone to handle the West. Beware, Wyndia is a truly powerful foe, and their allies are many… their King be the one named Ananias, his Queen be the one named Sherri. Take utmost caution, assault from the farthest point west onwards.”
Vanthia smiled wryly. “And me?” She asked with a sultry coo as she eyed her attractive male superior. “You shall accompany me, for the North be our target.” Astaroth replied with a poker face for the ages, “Malthius would perhaps be a better choice, but then not even I can handle the North alone… and neither could you handle the West.”
Malthius smirked arrogantly as Vanthia’s face went red with rage. How dare he! She was beautiful, she was perfection! How could he say something like that to her!? “…I would hope your mind be settled on more… important matters.” Astaroth said then with a very edgy tone to his voice, “In Xenian’s name, we are here, and it is in service of Xenian that we go our separate ways. Let not your minds be led astray from your task. Focus.”
Vanthia calmed, immediately. There was one dominating factor in her and the other’s minds: Faith in Xenian. They had been made as such, given minds and free will limited to an undeniable preset to serve. “Aye.” She said quietly, “I’d rather go with you anyway.”
Turning without a word, back to the temple he had taken by himself in but a single night, Astaroth lifted his hands. In response, the mass within that once sacred place Came to life. With the purification of these lands had come the Purebloods… ten thousand, all in all. They were lined in legions, rectangular formations. Fitting them all into place was nearly impossible, but their distinguished units would be easily recognizable once they found open ground.
The purebloods, they looked almost all alike. The wore the same armor, the same face-masking helmets. Even to Astaroth and the other generals, it was unknown whether or not Xenian had even given them faces. He had, however, specifically blessed strategic numbers of them with different specialties… some handled spears and other pole-arms, others swords and axes, others maces and flails, and finally came the archers and their six-foot longbows.
“We march forth in the name of Xenian!” Astaroth called outwards, his hands still high in the air, “We march forth to purify this world in the name of our almighty father above us! Hail Xenian and the Void!”
“Hail!” The army roared, their voices combining to a thunderous effect. “Five thousand of you, a full half of the glory I see before me, shall travel with Generals Lyris and Tharizdun. One thousand shall accompany General Daragor, One shall Accompany General Malthius. The last two thousand of you all shall set out with General Vanthia, and I… and those of you I deem worthy, consider yourselves privileged.” Astaroth went on, “For our destiny lies within the realm of Dragonier!”
And what a glorious destiny it was, at least if Xenian was correct, and their power was enough to overcome Ryu and his companions. The Earth would be forever changed, the epic victories obtained in this march would be forever remembered in the hallowed halls of their people as they lived onwards and forever into eternity, with Xenian as their one and only God and one and only leader.
At long, long last… the Earth would finally belong to Xenian. The goal he had struggled to reach since the dawn of time and space itself was (by the standards of the long-lived and/or immortal) not that far away now, and this time more assuredly so than ever before.
These were the thoughts playing through Astaroth’s mind as the supremely well-organized deployment of the troops began. One could carry a maximum of five on their back in dragon form… which meant they were definitely not going to take a boat… at least, not yet.
Truly, Astaroth was thinking this through. This far south, he doubted that even en mass, the army he was sending to the South with Lyris and Tharizdun would not be so easily detected. He sensed always the probing pscionics from the North, but his power combined with Daragor’s magic blocked their attempts at reconnaissance. The longer they kept Dragonier’s pscionic eye blind the longer they went without real and true competition, which was obviously going to mean success.

Ryu would learn inevitably, but hopefully by the time he did, he’d be all alone.

“…Arriving in the West, it will not be easy.” Malthius said to Astaroth, his voice hellishly rocky and deep. “No.” Astaroth said somewhat empathetically, “And beware always the dark lands beyond their borders… the true extent of the west is not our concern as of this moment.”
Malthius tilted his head. “Pardon?” He asked. “…As far as we know there are no living things within the wastelands beyond the region I am told to be Dauna.” Astaroth explained with a glance, “It is vast. If there is life there, it shant last for long… and we have not the time to bother searching for it just yet. Dragonier, Ryu… they must fall before we go to that place.”
“…I sense a great evil there.” Daragor said from the side, drawing a curious look from both and Vanthia as well. “Evil?” Vanthia questioned with a bit of a smirk, “By the definition of those before us we are evil.”
Daragor shook his head. “Our actions are derived of faith, not evil. Regardless of what is considered to be ‘right’ in any culture… we all know in the end what is rightfully and truly… wrong.” He explained, “There is a darkness there, I sense undeath… massive, massive amounts of undeath. I fear that particular section of paradise shall be lost until Xenian himself heals it.” “…But I warn you, Malthius… do not dare underestimate the danger you will be in, venturing into the wastelands. The darkness there threatens to consume even one of your or Astaroth’s power.”
Astaroth frowned darkly. “Then perhaps the Far West should be your first target, Malthius… while you will still have the men to handle their undead armies.” He said with a sigh, “Daragor. Who or what governs those lands that you speak of, where death seems to dwell?”
“…From what I can tell, a pair of… well…” Daragor muttered, shaking his head as a strange feeling begun to creep through his mind. “…Daragor?” Malthius asked in concern, as their sorcerer’s eyes begun to cloud with darkness, as his skin began to turn purplish-black in color.
Vanthia forced her way between Astaroth and Malthius, jerking from the back of her belt a white and gold wand. Setting it to Daragor’s forehead, she spoke a word of power… and from the wand came the spell known as ‘Restore’. The magic, normally used to heal physical wounds of dire nature, also acted a something of an antibody against the unholy magic coursing through and soon to destroy Daragor.
The sorcerer collapsed. Vanthia’s wand began to pulsate, a dark series of tentacle-like waves of magic coursing upwards through it, fighting against it. She could hardly believe the power of the darkness she found herself battling, the same darkness that was effortlessly dismantling one of six individuals specifically created to be powerful.
Malthius gave Astaroth a foul look. “And you would send me here, one who has little knowledge of magic?” He asked with a frown, “I implore you, send with me Daragor that I may have some chance in battling this foe. Vanthia can handle the East, and you with her.”
Astaroth sighed, clutching between his eyes as Vanthia finally forced the darkness within Daragor away. “It would be overkill.” He argued against Malthius, “I shall go alone then. But you are correct… Daragor will be needed…”
Lyris glanced to Tharizdun. “Come now, cannot Tharizdun handle the south with half our army?” She inquired, the sky behind her dotted with the forms of their army passing over the ocean and towards the south… a flock of flying death, as it could easily be described. “No. The South is massive, it nearly caps the bottom of this planet as a whole.” Astaroth replied with a shake of his head. “Astaroth, the decision is yours to make in the end… but heed my suggestion.” Malthius offered calmly, “Overkill is not necessary, but neither is it directly unnecessary. Northwards almost directly from the lands you shall conquer be Dragonier, we know this…”
Astaroth glanced to Daragor. This, this was truly unexpected. “This is all very disturbing.” He declared with a frown, “We have already been staggered. We cannot allow this to happen again.”
Vanthia gave him a look. “Failure will always happen, Astaroth. We are not perfect… we are only… close.” She stated flatly, “Daragor was unlucky… and probably had his guard down as well. It is best to air on the side of caution even if it does mean we change our plans.”

Thoughtfully, Astaroth nodded. “Let it be then, that you and I shall handle the East.”

[Avarice]

“…Damn soulless bastards….” Daragor muttered somewhat confusingly as he rose. He was breathing heavily as the blackness over his eyes faded. “I will not scry there again. To do so would be suicidal at best. They are undead, but I have no idea how to label them. They look like Vampires, but aren’t… they have the powers of a Lich, but aren’t.” He sighed, “The man… his power is infernal. I had my defenses up, Vanthia. He overruled them, it was naught but child’s play for him.”
Astaroth turned with a dire look on his face. “They are too dangerous to be left alive. It is possible they are allies of Ryu’s.” He declared grimly. “Allies of Ryu? I highly doubt that, they would oppose everything he stands for.” Daragor argued with a frown. “As does the one named Greywolf.” Astaroth reminded Daragor with a hard frown. “…Point taken.” Daragor replied with a conceding bow, “…Which may be… mm. That’s a very interesting point. Could they be related?”
Malthius shrugged. “Either way they must die, it matters not. Greywolf, we can only assume, shall be with Ryu… and shall not abandon the man for the sake of others… be they related or not.”

Daragor turned to Astaroth, who nodded, simply.

* * *

Danielle’s sobbing wails had Vic out of bed faster than a bolt of lightning. “Oh, ohh…” Vic cooed as she picked the beautiful, silver-eyed infant up from the crib. “Is she alright, Vic?” Greywolf asked, rolling over with a sleepy haze in his eyes. “Heh, yes… hungry I think.” Vic chuckled quietly as she let free her breast and the baby begun to suckle, “Yes, very hungry. I knew that is why she wouldn’t sleep earlier, she was waiting to wake us up…”
Greywolf smiled, which once upon a time had been an extreme rarity. “She looks just like you.” Vic went on softly, stroking his face and stroking the thick though very well-trimmed goatee about his mouth. “I noticed.” Greywolf assured her as he slid across to her side of the bed and nuzzled her hip. “Don’t you dare bite me again Michael Wolf, I swear I will stab you in the balls.” Vic warned him, remembering a night when he had been in rare, playful form. He played rough, to say the least. She’d worried the teeth marks would never go away!
…But to call him by that name usually got his attention, it was his real name, not the name McKay had given him so long ago when he first ventured to the south looking for work. “God I hate it when you call me that.” He sighed, “At least using the surname. I can handle… Michael, now.”
Vic smiled softly, but as quickly as it came did it replace itself with a deeply confused stare. “…Michael, did McKay… did he know what your name was?” She asked in her curiosity. “I don’t remember telling him.” Greywolf replied, “Ironic isn’t it, the name he gave me… heh, Greywolf…”
“…I always wondered why that fit you so well.” Vic sighed as she glanced back down to Danielle, still suckling as if she’d never eaten in her life. “Mainly because of my attitude.” Greywolf replied, “And my skill as a ‘hunter’ so to speak. I only failed the man once… maybe that’s why I was always number 1…”
Another confused look. “You failed?” Vic asked with a frown. Greywolf nodded, his brow lowering for that signature, angry frown. “He sent me after a woman named Patricia and a girl that would be with her named Alma. I still to this day have no idea who they were or what he wanted with them… he never told me.” He explained, “I asked, many times. Then again it pissed me off that I had to be ‘nice’ to them and that I wasn’t being sent to kill them… but…”
Vic lowered her gaze. McKay’s past had been a mystery to them all… as she had been his number 2 agent just below Greywolf in those days. She missed him dearly, he had been like a father to her and to Greywolf. “…I guess in the end, there are some things that maybe, we shouldn’t know.” She said, turning her attention back to Danielle to burp the child. “Shouldn’t, or don’t want to?” Greywolf returned with a smirk, “…Meh. There’s really no telling who they were. All I know is he sent me towards the far side of the Jungle.”
“…Goddamn, why would he send you that far away looking for some bitches?” Vic asked, laughing as Danielle burped, squeaked in fright, and begun crying. “I don’t know, but if I had found them their pussies would’ve been worth about twenty grand.” Greywolf laughed, taking his daughter and lifting her high into the air, to comfort her…

Only to have her spit up a good portion of her meal on his face, as it were.

Around that time did Ananias return, a heavy frown upon his face as he made his way back into his and Sherri’s quarters. Thankfully, they were both soundly asleep. Silently, he watched them do so… she’d been cuddling him, they were almost attached to one another, mother and son.
Soft were their faces, warm was the glow of the dying candlelight off their fair skin, off their orange furred and tiger-striped lower bodies. Ananias’ gaze lifted then, a tear falling from his eye as he quietly slid off his shoes and stepped over to their window, his tear sparkling in the lunar light drifting in through that window.
Ananias’ gaze was to the heavens, he counted stars as he counted the regrets he’d recall in his life in the tragic event it came to an end. Glancing back, one of the main regrets he would have was that he and Sherri had never been wed. They’d made plans, but… they’d put them off. Why? Well, Leo’s birth for one… and for two, they’d assumed they would have time to wait for autumn. Now… would they ever be wed at all? Would he survive this time?
The future, his future… he dare not look into it. To see his death would inevitably drive him to prevent it. In doing so his fate would change… but with it would come various other… and not necessarily desirable, changes. Once long ago when in the tutelage of Chie, the former leader of the Trance Clan and his ancestor, a story had been told to him of a man who did such a thing. He foresaw his death, saw that it was unnatural and there was something he could do about it.
Naturally, the man changed everything, and effectively did he save his own life. But in doing so… he indirectly took the lives of his family… his entire family as it were, whose deaths came as falling dominoes. Chie often described the reasoning behind this, saying he believed the man had angered fate itself, and that its punishment of his actions and denial was to make the life he had saved a nightmarish hell.

Hence why Ananias dared not peer into his future, no matter how great his desire.

[Avarice]

Eventually, even for troubled Ananias, sleep came to the people of Dragonier. The morning did arrive a bit too early however… but, that was beginning to become normal for those among them who had children.
“…Aww…” Ryu cooed, Cradling Yuri and rocking her as he and Saphira packed their children down to join the others. There waiting for them were their friends… but, though they were all sitting about peacefully, the did not wear smiles on their faces to see them.
Tico stood beside Ryu’s seat, a grim frown painting his face as Ryu’s persistent coddling managed to soothe Yuri’s early-morning unhappiness. “…We’ve assembled, we’ve recruited, and we’re beginning training.” Tico informed Ryu with a frown, “The walls are being reinforced thrice over as we speak, we have begun placing turrets upon the walls with bolts capable of piercing our hide… as in, you know, dragon scales.”
Ryu’s brow rose. “Just how do you know this?” He inquired, almost nervously. “I sent out a request for donations of bodies.” Tico explained with something of a grin, “An Eldritch was used, killed himself in an experiment gone wrong.” “…And I assure we did have his comrades cast selective spells upon his body to intensify the strength of his armor as well. I assure you, sire, the bolts can and will penetrate the defenses of our enemies.”
“…You’re thinking progressively.” Greywolf noted as he took a drink of his morning milk, “Aerial combat is a given when dealing with your kind. But I didn’t hear your king mention it once… how encouraging.”
Ryu glanced. Greywolf’s tone was dry and completely not funny, but he was playing a bit of a game. “As you said, it’s a given. I would have hoped my General smart enough to see that, obviously I was right.” He returned as he sat with Saphira at the head of the table. “…Thank you for your report, Tico.” Ryu went on then, “Would you join us for breakfast?”
“No, sire. I have already eaten.” Tico replied flatly, “I shall begin assembling the men that are ready, we will not be taken by surprise… in fact we shall have a bit of a surprise waiting for them upon their arrival. Our alliance with Kombinat has proven useful, sire.”
Ryu was thankful he hadn’t had anything in his mouth, otherwise it would’ve shot halfway across their table. “What?” He asked in alarm, which unfortunately frightened the tiny little girl in his arms. Yuri began crying immediately, drawing a sigh from Tico as he tried to over-talk the sobbing child and her frantically soothing father.
Saphira giggled, it was so adorable to see how Ryu handled it. He was so cute, baby-talking shamelessly like a fool and fawning over his princess with all of his heart and soul put into everything he said and did. But then, Yuri’s crying began to upset Ryuichi, and she did the same. Cuddling her precious prince tightly, Saphira rocked the infant and kisses his face repeatedly… that always worked!
“…Now.” Ryu informed Tico as Yuri finally managed to calm down again. “…Volkov was apparently shaken by your statements, last council.” Tico explained, “He has declared that he shall send around a thousand of his Cyborg soldiers to join us. With their technology at our side we have begun creation of war machines.”
Ryu frowned heavily. War machines? That didn’t even sound remotely positive. “What are… ‘War Machines’?” Saphira asked, her curiosity officially stricken with the maternal concern she felt for her children. “…Well, they’re exactly what they sound like.” Tico explained, “Cannons, mechanical catapults that load and fire themselves, human supplied ammo of course, automatically deactivate by the press of a button.”
“…Tools of destruction…” Saphira sighed heavily. “Indeed, but that is war.” Tico replied with a shrug, “Forgive me my Queen but, we must do everything we can to survive… for your sake as well as our own, and let us not forget the future generation.”
Ryu took a deep breath. “Thank you Tico, you can go now if you wish. I assume you’re more interested in testing these machines than you are talking about them. Please, inform me of their progress.” He replied with a sigh, “…And, one more thing…”

The shift in Ryu’s tone silenced everyone.

“…We need to figure out what they are doing, and what kind of numbers we are looking at.” Ryu said with a solemn frown, “I’m pretty much asking for specialized scouting, here. I need the best you have…”
Greywolf leaned back, giving Ryu a truly ugly look. “That includes me, I assume?” He asked, glancing immediately to his wife and child as Ryu turned his gaze over. “…I… well…” Ryu stammered, shrinking in his seat. Vic’s brow lowered dangerously, her eyes narrowing. “…I’m sorry, Greywolf… but…” The saddened and guilty King continued after his pause, “You’re the best… you’re the only one fit to lead…”
“You have your own damn men!” Vic snapped hatefully, her scowl vicious. “Calm down, calm down…” Greywolf sighed, turning and kissing her softly. “…No…” Vic, burying her face in his shoulder to hide her tears, muttered bitterly. “Surely it won’t take a long time, right?” Saphira offered, nearly in tears herself to witness Vic’s bitter sorrows play out before her. “No, it really shouldn’t.” Ryu said hopefully, “Greywolf won’t even necessarily have to face any real danger at all. All I need him to do is just keep the agents’ heads on straight.”
Greywolf kisses Vic’s forehead softly. “Don’t cry.” He whispered softly, “You knew as well as I did that I’d have to leave sooner than later.. and Danielle needs one of her parents at the very least.” “…And don’t read into that, you know what I mean… and you know I’m not implying I’m going to die.”
Sherri was really the only one that could make out what he was saying, and it stunned her how softly he spoke to her. To anyone else that would have come very coldly, if he’d said anything to comfort them at all. “Figure out where their efforts are focused, and how many of them there are. That’s all, the come straight back here.” Ryu offered, “I can’t see any logical reason why we should set out hunting them… we’d be facing not only their generals but their armies as well. We can’t do that.”
To say Vic was unhappy was an understatement as she shoved her plate across the table, picked Danielle up, and walked out. It didn’t Sira long to follow. “…When do you want us to head out, today?” Greywolf asked calmly, a stoic frown painting his face. “I… no.” Ryu muttered, “As soon as possible, though…”
Greywolf nodded, taking one last bit of breakfast. “I’m going to start saying goodbye to my family, and go. In which direction are we headed?” He inquired with a frown. “You’re going all the way across the world.” Ananias said with a frown, “To the South then around the far east. They’ve arrived there, they wiped out an entire civilization of people, from what Kime and I could deduce.”
“…And entire civilization?” Ryu asked, giving Ananias a hard look. “Yes, tribal humans living on a series of islands clustered together in the East ocean. They’re all gone now, and from what we can tell those islands may be something of a headquarters for them…” Ananias replied, “If you’d announced all this officially I could’ve brought it up more professionally.”
Ryu lowered his gaze. “I thought I’d be letting them off easy doing it personally like this.” He said quietly, “I was afraid they’d feel betrayed, or… especially betrayed, if I had announced it to the public without telling them one way or another what was going to happen.” “…I suppose I was wrong…”

Not necessarily…

(End of Chapter 4)

Next - Chapter 5: Passing of the Torch

[Avarice]

Chapter 5: Passing of the Torch


Alma’s gaze pierced the sky as she stood atop Knob Hill, just five miles south of her home. The hill was the highest known point along the great canyon separating these lands from the jungle. From it, one could see the tail end of the mountain range that had once served as the spine of the old peninsula.
But, that wasn’t what Alma was looking at. She was looking at the strange series of specks clustered to the left of that faint mountain outline. Her spell of ‘Eagle Eye’ was the only reason she could really even see the mountain to begin with, much less what she was actually seeing.
Little did the witch know she was witnessing the arrival of a menace far worse than any seen by the south since the days of the Church of Agathis, though it was similar on a very basic level. Alma (like everyone else in the south) had yet to learn of the truth of what happened to the peninsula and just what the so-called Church of Agathis truly was. They had no idea the name of Agathis had been stolen, that Agathis was a god of spiritual peace and at the very least, neutrality. His name had been taken as a cover by the dark dragons, the God in which was worshipped under the ‘guise of another God… was Draconis, the dark half of Xenian.

…Hence the obvious similarity. Doom twice had come here, both forms, draconic.

Alma let her spell fade, turning away and shrugging it off. More than likely she’d witnessed the migration of birds. There were so many millions of animals in the south, there had to be a few thousand that had yet to be recorded.
Besides, she had too much to think about today. She’d be going into the town itself to stock up on foodstuffs. She’d be going to see the shopkeeper whom she’d become friends with and another friend who lived there in the midst of their small populous. Both often supplied her with magical trinkets and supplements for alchemy and the like, and this time she knew for certain she’d be collecting at least one much-needed item.
With a sigh, She grabbed her walking stick… one that had belonged to her mother, and headed out. It took her only ten minutes to walk to town, but that ten minutes had been quite long for her… relativity, her mother called it. “Alma!” One of the farming boys of the town shouted happily, rushing over to greet her with a gap-toothed grin for the ages.
“Hello…” Alma chuckled in response. Twelve years her junior at eighteen, he looked up to her almost like a big sister, like most all of the young people in town. His elder sister however thought much differently of Alma… she saw her more as a threat than anything else.
After all, she was the most beautiful of the women in town. Alma had just turned thirty, but still seemed to attract more male attention than she did even though she was five years younger than her rival. To top that off, Alma never wore any sort of revealing garments. In fact she wore clothing that most men shunned and rejected for lack of flare and fashionable tightness.
Angered by the sight of her, Clara made her way over. “Hey.” She said with a flat edge to her voice. “Hello, Clara.” Alma returned, the look given to the woman perfectly superior in every way, “How are you this afternoon?”

Clara’s brow lowered. “Just fine, and you?”
“Never been better.”

…And that was that. Alma walked away and Clara was left stabbing her in the back with her eyes, shortly before slapping her little brother over the back of his head and sending him back out into the field.
This was how society worked… friendly, even though there were many rivalries among the townsfolk liken to Alma and Clara. This society had been built upon and still stood upon foundations of peace, a true pacifist code that each and every one of them swore by.
Alma loved this place, loved the people. Clara was difficult, but that didn’t really matter that much to her in the end. Looking around, she had to smile… it seemed a baby-boom had occurred! So many women were either pregnant or with infants… most of them had two or more little ones running about on top of that.
“Hey Alma!” The portly shopkeeper (the only one in town as it were) called from the door of his shop. Apparently, he’d just come back from one of his two… or three… lunches. “Hello Barb!” Alma chuckled, shaking her head subtly upon noticing he’d only gained more weight since last she saw him. “Got tons of food for you as per usual, was beginning to wonder if you’d be coming back.” Barb returned, his voice still as sweet and full as ever as he waddled his way inside. “Sorry, I’ve been gone for awhile now.” Alma explained, “I went about… well, a fourth of the way into the jungle. I found some Unguori actually… scared me a little but, I’m sure the one I harvested will be great for my experiments.”
Barb glanced back. In his youth (he was nearing sixty) he had been a defender of the town… but back then defenders and hunters were just about the same thing, that was before the town had grown from one of barely one hundred people to nearly nine hundred. “Unguori aren’t creatures to trifle with, you’re lucky to be alive.” He said with a deeply concerned frown, “Why did you go that far out?”
Alma lowered her gaze. “I was looking for Worens.” She explained with a sigh. “…I see…” Barb muttered, reaching up and opening a cupboard to produce her bag of food as he always prepared for her, “Looking for your father still I take it, or are you going to try lying to me by saying you were ‘studying their magic’?”
“…Can’t it at least be both?” Alma inquired with a pained smile. “Then it’d be half a lie, so no it can’t.” Barb chuckled quietly, empathetically. “…I dunno, Barb. I’ve looked and looked… I can’t find him anywhere. He has to be dead, but… I can’t seem to find any news of it…”
Barb sighed and turned. “I can’t find my wife’s spirit either. But she died of natural causes, they say spirits that leave under such natural circumstances leave no trace of their essence behind, for they have nothing left to give to this Earth.” He offered, “He may well have died, but take comfort in knowing that he at least died a natural death.”
Alma nodded. She’d long since accepted the fact he was dead. “I just wish that, I could know where he was. I’d like to visit his grave, you know? I’d like to speak with his spirit and ask him questions that I have every right to ask.” She said eventually, “But you already know all this. I’m sorry to bug you.”
The fat man shook his head, patting her shoulder. “You’re fine, Alma. You’ve grown into such a strong woman, you’re allowed such a desire. We all have questions we want to ask, that we all have a right to ask… but can’t. At least with your magic, you may be yet able to ask.” He replied with a smile, one that became a frown again far too quickly to be… normal for him.
“…What’s wrong?” Alma asked, frowning herself. “I’ve been having the most horrible feeling for nigh on a week now.” Barb replied, leaning on the counter and sighing deeply as if he were totally exhausted. “Bad feelings are usually warnings from the other side… have you had any strange dreams?” Alma inquired, her eyes beginning to sparkle in curiosity and concern. “Yes, I have.” Barb answered grimly, “Horrifying nightmares to be more accurate. The same dream, over and over again. I see red eyes across the canyon, with a wall of fire behind them stretching nearly into the sky itself. I see a man and a woman walk forth from the flame as if born from it, dealing death left-and-right without pity or remorse.”

Barb’s eyes dimmed greatly. “I see Fairview in flames.”

* * *

[Avarice]

Vic and Danielle stood just outside the palace as Greywolf walked away with his old long-coat swaying behind him in the wind. Vic’s eyes were filled with tears, but she hid them well from their confused but otherwise happy daughter. Behind her, Saphira gently sat her hand against the back of Vic’s arm, and Sira’s came to the other. Sherri held back, knowing (or as it were, thinking) Vic didn’t like her as much as she did the others.
“…He’ll be fine…” Saphira offered with a sigh, hugging Vic’s arm. “I know he will, but…” Vic sighed, her voice subtly quivering in sadness. “Try not to be upset.” Sira pleaded, “He’ll be coming home faster than you can say his name, Vic. It isn’t like he’s going to be gone forever.”
Vic nodded, smiling on both and turning to Sherri. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to blab off something stupid and get my mind off this?” She asked with a heavy frown, “Because I have enough support. I need an antagonist. Somebody to hate.”
“…Aw c’mon, it’s enough you dislike me.” Sherri sighed with a frown. “Dislike you? If I disliked you I wouldn’t have graced you with my attention.” Vic offered in a somewhat successful attempt at humoring herself, “I just get annoyed with you… hell I get annoyed with all of you. It’s who I am, when will you understand that?”
Sherri nodded. “Sorry, I’m just… you know, one of those people.” She giggled, cuddling Leo closely. Vic stopped as she moved past her, turning her gaze down on the little boy and smiling… he was adorable. “Little tiger.” She commented, “And damn, look at those teeth. Shit, he’s going to be a handful.”
Saphira and Sira shared a smile. Maybe that was a good sign? Vic would perhaps distract herself with the children… that’d be great! “I’ll go get the twins,” Saphira offered with a smile, “Daddy doesn’t need to try hogging them both at the same time!”
Outside, Greywolf surely wished Vic didn’t have to distract herself, that he could be the one making comments on the babies and the like. But, he had a job to do… one that was truly important. He’d only taken a couple of jobs since the death of Draconis, after all.
Waiting for him just outside the palace grounds was Tico and a group of four individuals Greywolf could only assume he would be leading into this little adventure he was soon to be on. The first three from left to right were men, all of the defender clan… he could tell by the buzz-cut hair and armor. However the female on the far right, she was far different from either of them… radically different.
“…Greywolf, this will be your crew.” Tico explained, “As if that weren’t obvious. Do you want to know their names or do you want to address them as numbers? I certainly don’t give a damn one way or another.”
Greywolf smirked. He liked Tico’s attitude now that the boy had actually grown into something of a man. “The men look the same to me. They’ll be one, two, and three. The girl however…”

“Aero.” The radiance dragoness replied, her blue eyes narrowing, “And by the way, I’m a woman now.”

Greywolf’s expression went flat. “Great, you gave me one with an attitude.” He sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Nah, she’s just proud of herself. Meh, don’t piss her off and she’s good enough for the job. Trust me, you’ll like her.” Tico offered with a shrug, “Aero’s a healer and damn good at wind magic, also handy with her scythe.”
“Well, I have to admit, I’m learning my new style.” Aero offered, which was technically out-of-line considering she was somewhat interrupting Tico in speaking at that moment, “I use a double-ended scythe. Just recently started using one actually. You can rely on me to keep everyone and yourself in good shape… I’m one of the best you’ll find at Healing.”
Greywolf nodded. “Then stay back if you’re going to focus on healing. Besides, we shouldn’t need your healing magic to begin with. The only thing we’re supposed to be doing is spying on them.” He replied, “…I hope you three are prepared to drop that damn armor. It’s useless, noisy, and cumbersome.”
The men looked to each other, Aero merely brushed the dust off her skirt and robe absently. “Stealth. That is what I’m going to teach you, and if you want to survive, that is what you’re going to learn.” Greywolf said with a firm edge to his voice, very befitting of his status as their leader, “Our enemy will have no mercy… and neither will I. You will learn or you will die, I will not reward weakness nor will I reward ignorance.”
Tico nodded approvingly, it would have been impossible for any of the Warrior clan not to be, however. “You sound as bad as the enemy.” Aero stated with a shake of her head. “I am training you to survive, I’m training you to protect yourself from them. I am not training you to be a good Samaritan, a noble warrior who values honesty and honor above all things.” Greywolf returned, “I am training you to kill. I am training you to survive, and the only way you’re going to understand and adapt to the harsh realties of life is if that reality is given to you from day one. At least, I might not actually kill you.”
Aero’s expression became curious, then. Suddenly, this tall and dark man standing before he wasn’t so much of an antagonist to her as he was a riddle. Obviously he’d been through a lot… or maybe just one, tragic event. No-one normal behaved this way, not even the fiercest of the Warrior clan’s drill sergeants were that simple and to the point, so cold.

Oh and, they didn’t mean it.

That night came quickly, but the night itself was going to be long. Greywolf had prepped them physically to begin with, basic exercises. The emphasis was to increase their flexibility. Now in the midst of the night he was going to train them the art of seeing in the dark… or at least, Aero certainly hoped that was what he had in mind.
Greywolf’s choice of nights had been picked well. A night with no moon and a storm blowing in? Pitch black. “Form up.” He said with a frown, glancing around in the darkness and seeing just about everything he needed to see quite well, “Look to your left, then to your right. What do you see?”
“Nothing, sir.” Three, as he was now called, answered first. “Idiot. Aero’s standing right beside you. You’re less than three feet away from her. How can you not make her outline out against the sky?” Greywolf asked sharply, “Pay attention! Two!”
Two swallowed hard. Anyone smart would’ve probably lied, but his training forbade such unethical behavior. “Forgive me sir, but… I can see nothing but darkness.” He admitted with a hard swallow, “I hear breathing… I hear. That is it.”
Greywolf walked. No-one heard it, no-one had a clue he was behind them when he put the muzzles of his machine guns against the backs of two and three’s heads. “Hearing obviously didn’t save your life, now did it?” He asked, startling One and Aero to the point they both jumped. “You’re both dead.” Greywolf stated with a hard frown, as in a flash of lightning it was revealed his guns had quickly turned to both of them even during their movement.
“…We’re not like you, dammit!” One spat with a disheartened frown, “ With all due respect! How can you expect us to pick this up so quickly, sir?”
Greywolf turned to him specifically and walked over. “How could your enemy expect you to learn this either? They wouldn’t.” He replied, “But nor would they have any mercy on you whatsoever. Nor would they spare your comrades’ lives. Inevitably, through finding one of you, they will find all of you.”
“…Now from where you are all standing, walk forward.” Greywolf said then after a long moment of silence, “We’re leaving the walls. We’re heading for your first obstacle course…”

…As if things could have gotten any worse, at all.

By the time the sun finally rose on that horizon, not a single one of those four poor souls could even begin to stand, except for one. Aero had been the only one to even make it past the first obstacle. In fact, she’d cleared four out of twenty. Greywolf was utterly disgusted, but Aero was extremely proud of herself. These weren’t your run-of-the-mill obstacles as seen in other branches of the military, designed to improve the recruit’s strength and perseverance. They were designed to test all senses at once, designed to hurt when you failed them.
“…Pitiful lot.” Greywolf sighed, leaning back as if he had slept the whole night away and felt no form of exhaustion. “Give them credit were credit is due.” Tico argued with a shake of his head, “Aero completed four, two completed… well, two.”
Greywolf sighed. “One and Three failed miserably. They are unfit.” He declared with a hard look, “Produce more or I will end up going alone. I don’t need this extra baggage weighing me down, Tico. I’ve got a family to think about, much less a bunch of damn children.”
“…The King demands you take at least two with you.” Tico offered, “He figured you’d say something like that. Take Aero and Two. Abandon both if you must… but don’t you dare let a word of that come back to Ryu. I will not suffer as well for their weakness.”

Greywolf gave him a look. “Why do you think…”
“I know, Greywolf. You’re not the only cold-hearted bastard here.”

[Avarice]

Greywolf grinned, somewhat, and nodded. “Keep them up. They don’t get to sleep, they failed. I’m going home, fuck this.” The mercenary sighed, “I’m also going to pay a visit to Ryu. I hope he doesn’t think I’m doing this for him out of the goodness of my heart, or much less our friendship.”
As their commander walked away did the four students approach Tico. “Can we rest now, please?” Aero asked, dark bags forming under her eyes, “I think I did well enough for a nap, didn’t I?”
Tico shook his head. “One and Three, you’re out. You failed utterly, he doesn’t want you anymore. You two? No rest. Neither of you completed enough of the course to satisfy him either.” The young warrior responded, “I’m working you this time. I want you to run that shit again, blindfolded. Ten lashes for every fuck up.”
Aero scowled. He had officially pissed her off. “Yes Master.” She snapped, the sarcasm in her voice dripping off her tongue, “While we’re at it would you like us to chop up some onions without crying, while eating fire without it burning us?”

Tico’s grin was evil… and Aero wisely held back the rest of her anger.

* * *

Their cannons fired rapidly, far faster than they probably should have. The dragons twirled about their flaming cannon-balls, unleashing waves of fire out across the deck and lightning the manes of fur about the Iron-Ogre’s necks ablaze, sending them flying overboard into the water where only too many sharks awaited their next meal.
Lyris landed on deck of the largest ship of the fifteen-boat fleet. It was in front, it was designed for war. Tharizdun followed, his halberd coming to the ready immediately even as the ox-men of the Iron-Ogre clan rushed forward to defend their ship and their people… or at least, to try and do so.
Rushing forward did their brave leader swing his mighty hammer towards the head of Lyris, an attack doomed for failure. Effortlessly did she glide beneath it, but with a rather blunt force did she bring up her flail into his jaw, crushing his teeth and snapping his head violently backwards.
The fore of the impact drew a pause to the ones behind. That pause cost two their lives As Tharizdun’s halberd thrust in like a bolt of lightning to take the throats of a pair standing together. Spinning about his weapon did he send the spike upon the opposite end of the weapons handle through the chest of another, as Lyris spun from around the excessively broad body of the commander she’s so easily dispatched.
Behind them did land dozens of Purebloods, all in human form though led off by a wave of fire to which they were totally immune. They featured the standard array of weaponry, but not the standard array of skill. They were supreme in every way, sweeping through the deck with Lyris and Tharizdun ahead of them. The Iron-Ogres fought valiantly. The clashing of steel rang over the sounds of their screaming as the Purebloods methodically cut their way through the ranks of their men… and as their generals tore a blood path on the way towards the main cabins of their vessel.
Bravely did a young warrior, fresh out of basic training, rush to defend the door. His broad body, like all the sturdily built ox-men of the Iron-Ogre clan, blocked view and physical passage. “Parlay!” The soldier pleaded, “What have we done to deserve this, why has Dragonier turned on us!?”
“…Dragonier?” Lyris replied with a wry grin, “You’ve got it wrong. We’re heading in that direction too. Don’t worry, your precious Light dragon friends have not turned their backs on you. In fact, they are main targets.” “…Well, Astaroth’s targets, but you know…”
Faster than the rookie’s eye could blink did that flail snap upwards. To his side did another soldier… a veteran who’d in fact helped train him, leap in front of the young one to take the blow.
The spikes, the force of the hit, sent the ball through his rib cage to obliterate his right lung. “Go!” The Dying man shouted to the younger, “The world must know! We will need Ryu’s aid!”
The young man had never questioned this old man, and he didn’t start questioning him that day either. Bravely did he run, leaping miraculously over Tharizdun’s halberd as it snapped across towards his ankles. “Gah! Kill him!” Lyris snarled, here eyes widened in alarm, “Damn!”
Tharizdun gave chase, but in seeing one of their own running away, the other soldiers defending that ship knew instinctively his mission was not to fight. They bravely came to swarm Tharizdun, who’s halberd beheaded and mutilated all those who came within range of the blade. Those that lived to get within the reach of his lengthy weapon however were never lucky enough to strike him down. Lyris was there in support, her flail cracking the helmet and skull of on and sending him stumbling sideways in death upon another.
…But that was also when the berserks came. Those ox-men wore armor designed to be as much of a weapon as the iron-plated horns on their heads… which they lowered as they charged the apparent leaders of their enemies.
Tharizdun stood stoically, planting his halberd against a series of crates along the railing of the ship behind him and bracing himself. Lyris on the other hand wasn’t gifted with such a long weapon to impale them.
Leaping to the side, her flail’s chain wrapped about the throat of the berserker specifically targeting her. However, the ox-man’s adrenaline and rage intensified his strength, and Lyris found her feet lifting off the ground even as she jerked her weapon backwards and snapped his neck.
Falling, Lyris only barely managed to roll between the horns of another… but, that was just as bad a situation as any she could have gotten herself into. The armor of these warriors was ridged, even bladed one could say. Immediately did he pull free the helmet off his head, Leaving the iron caps adorned upon it stuck in the deck and pinning her down. Immediately, the berserker doubled up both fists, his gauntlets spiked.

…Only in time to have his unprotected head bit off from above.

[Avarice]

Tharizdun fared slightly better than Lyris, but he’d already impaled two of them on his halberd… which was not going to tear free of their thick armor… and for that matter, skulls, easily. For Tharizdun, plan B involved his men, one of which tossed him a spear even as he was impaled upon the horns of another berserker. Tharizdun wasted no time plunging his gift into the heart of that berserker… vengeance, repayment, for a brave and true Pureblood warrior. Tearing it free, Tharizdun spun it over his head and thrust it forward through the helmet of another… one of the last five remaining as it were.
The initial impact wasn’t so bad, but this particular berserker apparently didn’t understand the fact it was supposed to fall over dead. No, it charged on, the spear tearing free out of it’s back and only barely missing it’s spinal column. Given no other choice, Tharizdun launched into the air, drawing his legs up high as the semi-conscious berserker lifted his head to try and at least injure the warrior who had slain him.
As Tharizdun landed did Lyris come back her feet, enraged. “How dare they!?” She snarled bitterly, “Make a fool out of me will you!? Die! Die you bovine filth!”
Furiously did she crush the skull of the next berserker, her flail crashing through and slamming the deck with such force as to penetrate the boards. The unsettled ground suddenly beneath the feet of the remaining four that were charging sent two off balance… one of which fell off into the ocean to drown with the weight of his armor.
The other ran into the end of Tharizdun’s blood-soaked halberd even as he finally tore it free of his earlier victims. With the supernatural strength of the dragon within him, Tharizdun lifted his body and catapulted it out to sea, spinning on the other and taking his head cleanly as he snapped his weapon back across to the left.
Lyris took out the final berserker with a vengeance, spinning about him as he passed her, her flail coming up-and-over to crash into the small of his back. The berserker’s spine was severed immediately, internally… he died within seconds.
By that point he was better off… it was over. Their ships burning, those that wanted to survive took to life boats and made their way for the shores… which to their horror were also ablaze as the army of dragons above them laid waste to the budding civilization they had been working so hard to complete.
The confusion was total, but it was beginning to dawn on even the dumbest among them that these were not the same kind of dragons they had grown accustomed to dealing with in their everyday lives. These were the kinds of dragons the old legends had spoken of, the legends of the Goddess Myria’s people whom in ancient times had hunted the Brood to near extinction. A message which was carried by the lone rookie on a tiny, lonely lifeboat…

The sole survivor of their principle ship, ‘The Horned Mermaid’.

“…Nine casualties, on our part.” Lyris said flatly as she turned to the bloody mess that was Tharizdun, “We did well considering, don’t you think? I am sure Astaroth would be highly pleased with our efforts… though admittedly we did get lucky. Goodness knows they surely weren’t expecting us, hmm?”
Tharizdun glanced and nodded. The flat expression on his face was all it took to remind Lyris of her little… mistake. “Damn.” She sighed, glancing out to sea, at the masses of ships and the dragons unleashing their fires aboard them. As she had feared, the turbulent ocean’s protest of the violence above its waters and the smoke filling the air from the fires was a perfect mask for smaller vessels on the water. Only a handful could be seen.
“…They are surely aware of us anyway.” Lyris huffed, taking a deep breath to steady herself as her eyes continued on to scan the continent in which they would soon be arriving upon, “It isn’t as if I didn’t state the obvious.”
Ignoring her, Tharizdun tilted his head. Why did he get the feeling that Lyris wasn’t entirely correct, and that what she was incorrect about had more to do with their personal well-being than that of the others? Turning back to her, Tharizdun’s eyes were beginning to feature the embers of anger.

….But as always, he remained totally silent.

* * *

Greywolf returned to the fields of Dragonier that evening, to find that Aero and ‘Two’ passed out… literally… on one of the obstacles. “I made them run it blindfolded, ten times in a row.” Tico explained, leaning casually back against the ever-growing city’s wall and frowning. “How many tries?” Greywolf asked in response, eyeing the pair with a heavy frown. “Three for Aero, all ten for Arnold.” Tico replied with a glance, “Before you say anything, be thankful Arnold survived it.”
“…Arnold?” Greywolf inquired with a frown. “Yeah, I’d personally rather be called shit myself.” Tico offered with a bit of a grin. “I suppose now I’ll have to address him by that name. I’ve got to do something to get these children ready…” Greywolf sighed, “How long have they slept now?”

Tico lowered his gaze. “Too long, six hours.”

Greywolf nodded. “That’s more than enough, time I go wake them up the hard way. I’d like to know how soundly they sleep to begin with.” He replied, checking the sun and confirming it was still on the horizon. If he guessed right, neither would subconsciously expect his presence… he had specifically stated he would not be back until nightfall officially.
…In Arnold’s case he was right, he woke the man by shoving him to the ground and frightening him half to death. In Aero’s case however, he was dead wrong… and almost literally. As Greywolf’s hand sat upon her arm did Aero jump wildly away from him, jerking her double-ended and double-edged scythe upwards for his neck and face.
Greywolf’s agility had never diminished from his youth, he nimbly bent backwards to avoid it… still, it was startling to have what effectively looked like an over-sized blender heading for one’s face.
Aero landed at the bottom of the obstacle, still blindfolded. “Don’t take it off!” Tico snapped from the side, “Don’t even fucking touch that thing! I will lash you myself until you can’t walk! Fight with it on! Use your instincts!”
Greywolf liked where this was going, leaping down. How he landed silently… it was a secret he’d only ever taught two people. Those two being Vic and Lavoisier. Aero’s body language was off-balance, alarmed and afraid. It angered Greywolf, he despised seeing such fear.
Brutally did Greywolf pistol-whip Aero, twirling her about and sending her into a roll that she came up from staggering. She offered a fashionable twirl of her scythe… but it was erratic. Greywolf ceased the spinning simply, putting the end of a shotgun in the midst and effectively disarming her as the weight of the second end tore it from her hands.
“…Pitiful.” Tico spat with a shake of his head. “I’m not used to it!” Aero barked in response, jerking the blindfold away with a scowl for the ages, “I only started using that kind of scythe six months ago! It’s so different! You two… ugh! You’re pigs, neither of you seem to understand just how skilled I already am!”
Greywolf grinned. Her anger was that of embarrassment. “You may have survived me at first, I’ll give you that.” He offered rather flatly, giving her no hope of praise however with such a dry tone, “But you failed miserably everywhere else. You could have done so much better.”
Aero clamed, slowly. “...Thanks.” She offered with a shrug, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this though, we don’t… you don’t have time to train me realistically. I’m smart but, I’m not a total genius… eh, yet.”

Yet?

Saphira’s smile was honest as she and Ryu lay their twin children together, stroking their hair and tickling their little bellies, drawing the most adorable and beautiful cackles in the world out into the warmth of their bedchambers. “Yuri has your hair.” Saphira giggled, “She’s going to be so beautiful…”
“She’s gonna look like her mother, no duh.” Ryu chided with a wink. “Ryuichi looks like daddy, and what a handsome young man he already is.” Saphira went on, stroking her boy’s face, “And did you see Leo? God, he looks more like Ananias every single day!”
“I know, poor kid.” Ryu chuckled, shortly before she lightly punched his shoulder in protest. “Don’t insult the baby, insult the father.” Saphira said softly, cuddling Yuri tightly to her chest, exposing her breast that the little one could suckle. Ryu watched this, shaking his head ever-so slightly. It was still awe-inspiring to see this truly beautiful scene before him. Beneath his father’s hand did Ryuichi squirm, drawing his father’s attention as desired as he gripped and pulled at his father’s fingers.
A cry from down the hall was all that distracted them from the moment… and that cry was coming from Danielle. “…Shh…” Vic, freshly awake in the wake of her daughter’s cries, mumbled softly as she rocked and fed her baby, “I know you want daddy… but daddy has very important things to do.” “…Your daddy is a hero, Danielle. He’s going to help… the others… save the world. Do you understand?”

Danielle, suckling, ignored her totally.

[Avarice]

Or at least, that’s what Vic pretended the little one was doing. It was amusing to entertain that though, at least for her. Anything that would distract her from the cold reality that Greywolf was not there beside her. Even if he had somehow slept through Danielle’s crying and was snoring so annoyingly as he sometimes did… she would have been grateful for it. “…Hey you… remind me not to bitch at daddy about his snoring anymore.” Vic cooed, stroking Danielle’s hair as she lifted the baby up to burp her, “I miss it now, naturally.” “…And tell mommy to stop being… so stupid. Daddy… he… he isn’t gone, yet.”
Listening, unintentionally eavesdropping instead of just knocking on the door, Sira frowned sadly. Her concern for Vic was great… after all, the woman was basically her mother-in-law, considering Greywolf had been the man whom had raised Lavoisier from his very early childhood. It wasn’t until she heard someone coming from down the hall that she knocked, and made her way inside.
“…You ok?” Sira asked quietly, blushing to see Vic’s bare breast before the raven-haired woman covered it. “Yeah.” Vic replied with the softest of smiles, rocking her daughter gently. “I’m not bothering you or the baby, am I?” Sira asked, coming over quietly and gazing down at the beautiful, silver-eyed infant girl. “Nah. What’s up?” Vic asked in response, never turning her gaze away from her child, however.
Sira swallowed. “I… just…” Sira sighed, sitting beside Vic and stroking the woman’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about me.” Vic said quietly, glancing over with a bit of an agitated frown, “You’ve got yourself to worry about right now, Sira. Ryu and company won’t be going alone to meet the enemy. They’ll have you and Lavoisier to back them up, focus on doing that instead of coddling me.” “…Don’t… reward… my weakness.”
The dragoness was shaking her head immediately. “This isn’t weakness, Vic. This is love…” She argued, “This is your heart feeling what a heart is supposed to feel. Don’t be ashamed of it, and don’t deny yourself what comfort you can find because of it. That’s just, stupid… to be blunt.”
Vic turned then to face her as Danielle again fell into slumber. “…I’d still rather have you getting your rest and focusing on what you have to focus on.” She replied as she rose from the bed, and lay Danielle back again into her crib, “If I need help I promise you, that I’ll go to Saphira… or even Sherri if I have to.”
Sira managed a whisper of a chuckle. “Sherri isn’t so bad, Vic… neither is Ananias. I know they’re both a couple of goofballs, but… they’re great friends.” She said as Vic came to sit with her again. “I know.” Vic assured her, smiling and stroking Sira’s cheek softly and in somewhat motherly fashion, “I’m just being a bitch, you know me.”
The pair shared an embrace then. Sira felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders… and quietly, she said good night an left Vic to find her rest… much, much needed rest. “…Michael…” Vic said quietly as she pulled the covers up about her neck, inhaling his still-lingering aroma, “You’d better come home sooner than later. This bed… it’s so cold without you…”

…She need not worry, Greywolf was going to do just that.

Aero’s agility was improving, that Greywolf could tell with much surprise and great relief. Arnold, as he was truly named, wasn’t doing that badly compared to his initial attempts a day and night before either… but wasn’t nearly up to par with what Greywolf expected. “I think I’ll have to replace him with someone else in the end.” Greywolf said to Tico quietly as they observed the pair’s midnight, blind-folded duel, “Lavoisier knows all of these things by heart, that one’s going to need to train more than I have time for. I guess Aero will… meh… she’ll do I guess.”
Tico shrugged. “Up to you. I guess in the end you could’ve just taken Lavoisier and Sira.” He offered with a shrug. “No. Sira has no idea what she is doing when it comes to stealth. The closest thing to a secondary I’d have is either Ananias or Sherri, and I…” Greywolf muttered, his voice fading off. “Pussy. You don’t want to ask them because of their baby.” Tico spat, “What about you and yours?”

Greywolf glanced. “I’m a heartless motherfucker, but I’m not inhuman.”

Tico grinned and nodded. He’d yet to even marry, much less start a family. He had no idea what the problem was… then again he wasn’t even close to being an adult yet by the standards of the long-living dragons. “I guess Lavoisier and Aero will do then. Tell Arnold he’s wasted all this time for no reason.” Tico huffed as he turned away, “I’ll see you next time, Greywolf.”
Greywolf never responded, striding forward towards them. All night, he’d made them fight like this. The obstacles he prepared weren’t nearly suitable for what they’d be having to deal with down there to begin with… it was all jungle. The course had mainly just served to teach them a lesson in humility. This blind-fighting practice however was key to survival. Greywolf would never forget this, this indescribably important lesson, the same lesson taught to him by McKay.
Aero spun about, but nearly lost balance as she fought against the weight of her hefty scythe. It wasn’t any help that she was, of course, blinded. “You’re lumbering around like a fat man with an itch on his ass.” Greywolf spat with a shake of his head, “Learn to let the weight of your weapon flow, Aero. You cannot change gravity and leverage with your mind or your magic.”
Arnold, who was using a sword, was beginning to track her down by her huffs and grunts. That was more of what Greywolf was talking about than anything, it wasn’t like they were able to see each other’s weapons to focus on that. In the dark, without the use of one’s eyes, the sense of hearing was of the highest priority… then came basic instinct and the sense of touch.
Still, Aero’s instinct was surprising to Greywolf. She wasn’t necessarily a warrior by classification, she relied mostly on wind magic when not in her proper place as a healer of wounds. Whipping the low-end of her scythe upwards, she followed Greywolf’s advice better than he had given it. Letting it free, she allowed the weapon’s weight to spin it about her arm and across her shoulders, throwing dust into Arnold’s blind-folded face… and more importantly, his mouth.
With dust in the throat, he coughed. The second he did that Aero caught her weapon with her far hand and thrust it forward into his stomach, then came over the top to smack him over the back of his head with the greatly padded tip of the other end’s blade.

“…Excellent.” Greywolf said quietly.

Aero slowly sat her weapon down, removing her blindfold and blinking as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight… which for some strange reason, was exceptionally bright in her opinion. “…I take it you can see everything quite well?” Greywolf inquired with something of a grin. “Yes, I can. Why is that?” Aero asked with a frown. “Your pupils are as widely dilated as they can be… the maximum amount of light you can see is being taken in now.” Greywolf explained, shaking his finger in the direction of that night’s gorgeous full moon, “Now we’re going to see just how much you have improved. Maybe you’ll surprise me, but more than likely you’re going to feel as if you’ve gone backwards instead of forwards with your training.”
“I highly doubt that. You underestimate me.” Aero chuckled rather proudly, “I’m better than you give me credit for. You might even be a bit worried that I’m going to end up being better than you are!”
Greywolf laughed at her, laughed in her face. He was going to do to her as McKay had done to him. He was going to teach her humility the hard way, was going to show her that no matter how far she came, she was still that much farther behind the leader, behind perfection.

Greywolf smiled. From McKay to himself, the proverbial torch had been passed.

(End of Chapter 5) Yes I have again changed the title of Chapter 6, Sira's surname is now Ledoux with her marriage to Lavoisier ^^;

Next - Chapter 6: The Hope of Sira Ledoux

[Avarice]

Chapter 6: The Hope of Sira Ledoux


Emily sat quietly in the main hall of Castle Wolf. Beside her lay a truly horrifying beast… a dog, long dead and completely Zombified. Most anyone would have fallen ill just seeing the putrid beast, but Emily loved and cherished Maxim like the proud ‘family pet’ he was to her. She did not however cherish the life flowing through her veins, as she continued to ponder her future.
Daily, her lungs grew worse. Tuberculosis had taken her life years past… it was still there, and she already knew it was going to kill her again. She was increasingly stick to her stomach however… which she could not remember as a symptom of her terminal illness. “Thou hast vomited again?” Camellia, walking gracefully into the hall via a door just to the right of the oaken bench Emily say upon, inquired curiously. “Yes, I don’t understand it.” Emily replied with a shake of her head, “And I feel as if something isn’t right.”
Camellia turned, a smile for the ages crossing her face. It was no surprise to her, but she simply could not wait to see the look on Emily’s face when she received the news. “Thou hath not bled from thine womb, haveth thee?” Camellia asked, that smile only growing deeper as Emily slowly begun to shake her head. “What does that mean?” Emily asked of her curiously, concern rich in her voice, “Am I… perhaps… infertile? Have my eggs died?”

“Perish such a thought.” Camellia replied gleefully, “Thou beith pregnant, my dear!”

Emily’s reaction wasn’t elaborate. Her eyes widened, but not outrageously so. She was surprised, but her heart was far from bursting from her chest. “…Oh, that… that is why these things are happening.” She said quietly, her hands coming to rest upon her stomach softly, “I… I had no idea.”
Camellia frowned. “Thou… beith unphased?” She inquired, “I didest expect thee to jump in thine joy, to exclaim thy pleasure unto the world as thou didest celebrate thine fertilization.” “…Pray, that ye not beith regretful of thine choice, Emily. Thou surely wept to have a child, doth not taketh back thine wishes now…”
“No, it isn’t that.” Emily assured Camellia with a shake of her head, “I… I just… I fear so much for the baby. I…” “…I am not mean to be alive, I have died. I should be dead, this life that flows through my veins is a burden that I fear I cannot bear…”
Slowly did Camellia’s hands settling on Emily’s shoulders. “Feareth thee not, thou shalt perish nigh on thine child’s first month of life.” She replied quietly, “Beareth thee this burden thou hath been given with pride, mine child. Thou beith privileged to taketh of mine son’s seed and birth unto him a child, thou beith blessed to taketh in the cold depths of night about ye.”
“I know…” Emily assured her, “And I am not ungrateful for this. I am just… I am afraid, Countess. I am afraid of this blood that flows again through my veins, I feel as if I am drifting slowly back into the light… when I wish to stay here, in the cold depths of true darkness.”
Camellia’s smile was set perfectly against a backdrop of a candle chandelier burning brilliantly against the black stone of their pristinely gothic castle. “Thou shalt never leave the darkness, Emily. Thine soul beith black, thine heart beith cold and dead. Thou art of mine flock, thou art of mine lineage and pride.” “…Thine life, and thine afterlife, hath taken place always in the darkness about ye, thou hath always been sheltered from the light.” “…I sayeth unto thee again: Thou shalt never leave the darkness.”

Emily could only hope.

…Above them did Count Gideon stand upon the high balcony, gazing out across the moonlight wastelands of his Kingdom, watching the movements of the undead as they gathered together according to type and age. Zombies, Skeletons, Ghouls (Variants of the zombies gifted with a touch of black magic as to pure necromancy, as it were), and of course the beloved Dread Wolves all gathered.
The Wolves as it were would serve as the leaders of Count Gideon’s Army, as they always had. For eighty generations this pack of wolves (of which now consisted ten generations worth) been the representatives and military leaders of the Wolf Army. As should be obvious, the very surname of the family was taken from these creatures, these creatures whom the patriarch of the family line came to tame via the powers of his demonically gifted magic.
Sparing a history lesson irrelevant to the modern time, Gideon’s thoughts moved away from the past and to the present… and future. Already he had begun this preparation, already was he weaving a web of defense that no living man or beast would ever disassemble. The undead were endless, if ‘slain’ they would merely return upon the rising of the next night’s moon… for here, there was no such thing as a night without a full moon.

Count Gideon saw to that, personally.

“Father…” Ivan said quietly as he came to join his father that wickedly cold night on the balcony… that nice who’s icy winds were lost on their lifeless bodies in which no blood flowed nor breath was drawn. “Thou wouldest inquire of me mine intentions, and mine preparations.” Gideon replied before Ivan could speak any further, “Thou needeth not trouble me now, mine son. Pray ye forgive me for mine rudeness, but my mind beith occupied. I haveth not the time.”
Ivan lowered his gaze. “I have a report father, from Dragonier.” He explained, “That is why I am here. It involves, Michael.”
Gideon turned immediately. “What beith thine message?” He asked. “Ryu has tasked Michael, father, to spy upon the enemy. He will again go to the southern continent. He shall leave behind Vicka and Danielle.” “I tell this to you, that you may know. And also that I may request, Vicka and Danielle be delivered here for safety.”
“…Thou knoweth the enemies of thine brother’s friend shalt come here as well, mine son…” Gideon replied with a heavy frown, “T’would be but a waste of thing sister-in-law’s time to cometh here. T’would be unnecessary stress upon thine niece, to cometh here…” “…But thine heart, it beith in the right place. Thou shalt inherit mine throne.”
Ivan gawked. “Father, where did that come from?” He asked in shock. “From mine heart, I speaketh of this to thee.” Gideon explained, “That lo my power beith taken from me thou shalt knoweth thine place. Taketh thy shock and pride, and mine love… and go, mine son. Verily mine thoughts be elsewhere again.”
Bowing, Ivan made his way out. Even as he re-entered the bedchamber of his parents did his mother step in, smiling brightly to see him. “Thou shouldest speak with thine lover, mine son! She haveth news to tell unto thee, news thou shalt surely rejoice to hear!” Camellia cooed happily, “Canst thou guess?”

“Yes.” Ivan said with a bow, “I shall see her at once.”

Watching him go proudly, Camellia only frowned again when she noticed Gideon’s strange, wide-legged stance. “...Alas that these times be wreathed in light,” The Countess said quietly to herself as she slowly slid off the outer layers of her dress, “That mine grandchildren’s skin may yet be burned by the wretched sun, that mine love and mine children must suffer to endure it…”
Gideon turned then, stepping inside at long last with a straight and solemn face. “I shalt return,” He said with a frown, “I haveth buisness with mine generals, that they beith aware of mine enemies’ true identity.” “…Taketh thyself to bed, Camellia. I shalt return unto thee, with the dawn.”

“Farewell mine love.” Camellia replied, sliding over to kiss her beloved husband, “I shalt await thee…”

* * *

[Avarice]

Dauna was a fairly dry land, mountainous in terrain. Malthius enjoyed the scenery, the jagged peaks against the towering city of steel the Iron-ogre clan had built here was quite pleasing to his eyes. “…Hmm.” Daragor muttered, his eyes turning towards a darkened alcove of the mountain, “There is another settlement there.”
“…It is of no consequence, the scouts report it is a haven of humans.” Malthius responded with a shake of his head, “Criminals, at that. Little effort will be taken there. I would focus solely upon the ox-men… the core of their power is here.” “…Also, Daragor… be mindful. The checkpoint is yonder, beyond that place be our true enemy within this section of the world.”
Daragor’s hands clasped, not that you could see them to begin with thanks to his oversized robes. “It was to my understanding we would assault that particular enemy first, Malthius…” He said coyly, reminding Malthius (or attempting to do) non-directly of his priorities. “…Why?” Malthius asked with a frown, “That we can lose the majority of our men before ever setting foot in Wyndia? I think not. Do you as you will, it is your life to lose. I shall focus my efforts on the enemy at hand… the enemy that is more prone to strike aggressively as to, defensively.”
Daragor’s gaze settled in on the checkpoint. “I would not be so sure, Malthius, that those whom live beyond that checkpoint will sit idly by as we obliterate their neighbors… be they official allies, hell for that matter know allies or not.” He argued, “But I do see your point. Quite a shame Lyris and Tharizdun were granted so many…”
“…They will be necessary, to cover the ground they have to cover.” Malthius responded with a shrug of his massive shoulders, “Personally I prefer things the way they are now. Let’s not forget, we at least know where our enemies take refuge.”
Daragor nodded. “Take one half and I shall take the other. You take care of Dauna, I shall take care of Yraall. We will meet in Wyndia with the remainder of our forces… and from Wyndia, we will reunite with Vanthia and shall then march back to that particularly grim place yonder.”

Malthius nodded.

They separated then and there, marching brazenly and without fear of witnesses to their passing. Luck was as much on their side as power, albeit that luck was unnecessary. In the absence of their leader Rax, the clan had grown lax in their security. Guards slept as often as they ate, which was a nearly constant basis.
The call from Wyndia hadn’t been taken seriously. They had pretty much ignored Ananias in their anger over their leader’s repeatedly vetoed taxation bills. Surely, the fate that awaited them was somewhat deserved as much as it was ironic.
Heading in the opposite direction, Daragor decided he would leave no stone unturned in his march, and would eradicate any and all civilization he did come across. Little did he know, however, that between here and Yraall there was but one true city… that being the fabled Syn City, wherein the mafia’s black market was the only reason people ‘visited’ that dangerous place.
Security had been beefed up greatly since the assault of the mysterious ‘tiger man’ from long ago. In fact, security had been so good that when the forces of Wyndia had come to seize the city and cease the illegal operations taking place within, they’d evaded capture. Many wanted men and women had eluded justice, the entirety of the operation was hidden within the mountain in which the city had been built around.
Needless to say, the message of an approaching army was spread quickly. Immediately the large men in charge of guarding the gate begun to crank a pair of wheels, which operated a complex system of spinning platforms to turn about the stands of the market… the black market being displayed so brazenly in the open of course.
…But, they had no idea just what the purpose of the army heading towards their city was, had no idea the short little man in front neither knew nor cared about their ‘little operation’. Daragor was there to destroy, he wasn’t there for the sake of justice or buisness.

It wouldn’t take them that long to figure it out, however.

As the army drew nearer did they begin to spread out, did the flanks of the army begin to transform. The men along the wall watching them begun to realize that this was no army of Wyndia. “Dragonier!?” Baraboo, then the leader of the town’s governing ‘family’, gawked. “Nah! Dem ain’t normal dragons.” One of his subordinates spat, “But dey is out to kill us!”
Oh how true a statement that was. Daragor’s eyes glowed a brilliant shade of red as he lifted a hand into the air. “…What’s he doing?” Baraboo asked, running his knobby hand over his sweaty bald head, “Waving to God or something!?” “…W… hey! The dragons, they’re coming in fast! Take cover, take cover now!”
Above Daragor’s hand formed a ball of fire… a massive, massively ball of fire. The magical energy pulsating through the somewhat diminutive body of the Pureblood general was highly visible as it circulated about his arm and fed into the orb above his hand.
Baraboo and his comrades dove off the wall, as the fireball that led off the assault upon their city obliterated the wooden structure behind them. Two of his best men were slain, one set ablaze and the other impaled by shrapnel for the sake of ill luck alone. Landing hard, Baraboo rose only to find a massive, tannish-gold dragon standing before him. “Ah! No, please!” He squealed, much like a pig, “I surrender! I do!!! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed in curiosity, which was the first and only sign Baraboo would receive that he was utterly doomed. With a snarl that was almost a perfect substitute for a shrug of the shoulders, the dragon’s head snapped forward… and his teeth, they sheared through Baraboo’s torso like a hot knife through snow.
The various knife-wielding thugs, and the towering guardsmen bearing their great spiked clubs, knew then and there that their time on this Earth was soon to end. The filthy prostitutes crawling the streets tried offering their bodies even amidst the flaming chaos around them, but not even the soldiers not in dragon form would take their offers. The swords and axes of the Purebloods severed limbs and heads, even as the blunt weapons of the others crushed skulls and shattered bones.
Daragor, hovering above the ground, floated through the gates. On either side the hidden guardsmen waiting for his arrival burst forth with their clubs reared high above their heads. Showing somewhat intelligent behavior (at least in combat), but unintelligently choosing the entirely wrong man to try and kill.
Flicking his wrists left and right, Daragor obliterated both of them effortless, never even gracing them with a glance… or for that matter, a flinch. Their chests opened as twin bolts of burning white lightning shot through them. Their wounds cauterized by the heat, the men fell over dead without so much as a drop of their blood spilt upon the ground they’d guarded for years.

Syn City fell within half an hour.

* * *

[Avarice]

Sira shook. Sweat lathered her, her hair was a wreck. On her knees, she couldn’t come to grasp with what was wrong. All she knew, was that she couldn’t take any more of this, it was too much. She felt weak, exhausted… what in the world had happened? The last thing she remembered was… waking up…
Lavoisier rolled out of bed, as he usually did of the mornings. The thud, the noise of course, was what actually woke him up. As he opened his eyes he caught a glimpse of the bathroom door… it was open, which was unusual. The second thing he saw as he sat up was Sira kneeling over the toilet, looking as if she’d been hit by some kind of massive rock. “Oh! Sira!” He yelped, rolling to his feet and rushing to her aid. “La… Lavoi…” Sira muttered, leaning on him as he came to support her, “I… so… so sick… can’t stop… puking.”
Gently did he pick her up and carry her to their bed. “…I’ll go get some help…” He muttered nervously, shaking as he let her go and stepped away. He was so terrified, but that made Sira’s heart bubble.

Sira was hopeful she knew what the problem was.

As he left the room Sira’s hands found their way to her abdomen. She wasn’t sick anymore, or at least sick enough to actually vomit, but that wasn’t the reason her hands were there anyway. “…Please…” She whispered in desperation, as the hope in her mind began growing more by the second, “Let it be… let me be… pregnant…”
It was just down the hall from her that Lavoisier caught Saphira on her way to collect jar food for the twins. “Saphira!” Lavoisier called to her, the urgency in her voice alerting her immediately. “What is it?” She asked in immediate concern. “Sira’s sick, she’s been throwing up…” Lavoisier explained with a somewhat calm voice through his shaking, “I don’t know what to do… help!”
Saphira’s brow rose, her heart settling. “Lavoi, she’s probably just got a stomach virus or something.” She offered with a frown, making her way off with him and glancing back as Ryu peeked to see what the commotion was about. She shrugged, to let him know she wasn’t really sure what was going on, to be honest.
Sira was already sitting up when Saphira came in. “Jeeze!” Saphira gasped in shock at the sight of her ragged sister. “Yeah…” Sira muttered with legitimate weakness in her voice, “I woke up sick. I’ve been ralphing for an hour… I don’t know what’s wrong…”
Lavoisier rushed to her side, like always. His expression was pitifully worried. “Did you eat anything bad?” Saphira asked, walking over and putting the back of her hand to Sira’s brow, “You don’t feel warm. I guess you don’t have a virus then… maybe it’s just food poisoning…”
Naturally, her little sister’s heart sank. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear! “No, I ate only fresh vegetables last night.” Sira argued with a shake of her head. “…Somebody… did they maybe… poison the food!?” Lavoisier asked in horror, drawing a rather amused look from Saphira. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lavoi.” Saphira chuckled with a shake of her head, “…Sira, you wouldn’t happen to have missed a period, have you?”
The grin on Saphira’s face, the way she said that… that was exactly what Sira wanted to hear. There was no hiding it anymore, she burst into a smile for the ages that cast aside most of the raggedness of her terrible morning. “Y… yes I have…” Sira breathed, trembling ever-so slightly. “Hmm.” Saphira cooed, “Maybe you’d better get washed up and come downstairs then. I’ll be sure to have a nice breakfast cooked so you’ll be able to recover your strength.”
Sira frowned immediately. “What?” She asked in confusion. “I’m not going to just give it to you, sis.” Saphira giggled with a wink, “I’m sure it’s what you want it to be… and I know what that is. But, I want to be sure, so I won’t potentially look stupid in case it by some miracle isn’t.”

Lavoisier’s mind exploded. What in the hell were they talking about!?

“…Will she be ok!?” He asked frantically, shaking his arms wildly. “Yes!” Saphira chuckled with a shake of her head. “No!” Sira argued immediately, “Not if you’re going to play these kind of games! This isn’t funny!”
Saphira’s laughter only intensified. She was as excited as she was happy, as ready to cry as she was to jump for joy. “Get cleaned up and come downstairs.” She said simply as she turned and walked out, “See you at breakfast!”
“Saphira!!” Sira shouted, leaping out of bed and charging after her big sister, only to have Lavoisier grab her and pick her up, holding her in place. “Don’t! You’re too sick to do anything!” He pleaded in urgent anxiety, “Let’s get you in a warm… cool… uh! Let’s get you in a bath! I’ll wash you!”
Glancing in as Lavoisier rushed his ‘terribly sick’ bride off to their bathroom, Ananias gave Saphira one of the most intensely curious looks he’d ever given her. “Sira’s pregnant… or… well I’m sure she is.” Saphira explained, “Though she doesn’t know it yet and Lavoisier is apparently retarded this morning.” “We’re going to make Sira some eggs and watch her puke, so you’d best eat before she gets down there, ok? I mean… I know you’re a bit of a girl when it comes to puke.”
Ananias smiled softly. “So that’s why you’re in a good mood… a really good mood.” He observed with a glance back at Sherri as she exited their room with Leo, “I’m glad. I’ve been as worried about you as Ryu.”
“…Why’s Ryu worried about me?” Saphira asked with a solemn frown. “You know, with all that’s going on. Once Greywolf gets back, we’re going to have to set out. I’d say we’d be better off hunting them down than letting them kill off thousands of people like they already have…” Ananias replied, “…That and, I’ve seen they’ve begun assaulting the Iron-Ogre clan. Their southern expansion city… it’s gone.”

Saphira paled. “You’re kidding me…”
“I wish I were.”

Sherri smiled despite the grim air of the morning as she approached Saphira, but before she could even begin to greet her best of friends, Ryu stepped out his and Saphira’s bedchamber. Normally that wouldn’t be something to cause an interruption, but the look on his face, and the fact he never made eye contact with any of them was very unnerving.
Coupled with how intently heading towards the window at the end of the hall, leaning forward and to the left to get a view before even arriving, they all sensed immediately that something wasn’t right.

They just didn’t realize how bad it was.

Seventy miles southwest of Dragonier was the city of Kombinat, a technologically advanced city that seemed to have been transported from some year far into the future. It was a place where artificial intelligence was more prominent than humanity, though humans were still the leaders of the community. How long that would last though was yet to be seen.
Volkov stood within the ten story tower he’d come to call home, a pair of incredibly powerful bots at his left and right. They were Berserker droids, notoriously powerful creations designed for pure destruction. They were the only pair of which within Kombinat, as the production of their kind en masse would be suicidal. These two were specially modified, they had no free-thinking technology and were bound to a specific code that could not be broken or tampered with.
The reason they were even active and out of their diamond cases (the purity of those gemstones seemed to counteract their weaponry, therefore preventing escape. Safety involving Berserker droids was extreme) was due to what Volkov was witnessing on the horizon.
An island ten miles out to sea, one rich with oil, was being mined by his robotic workers… and was currently in flames. The forms of Dragons could be seen, but even notoriously difficult Volkov couldn’t fathom their assailants being of Ryu’s ranks. For while Ryu had made a definitively clear threat… it was known he would not act on it in the end.
Volkov was even thankful for the alliance with Dragonier. Thanks to the common sense combined with the genius of his people, they were currently putting the finishing touches on more than a few ‘projects’ below ground… projects that needed testing.
“…Ready the Ion Cannon.” Volkov said with a frown as his assistant came to bow before him, “And fire when ready. Be sure to have a droid actually fire the thing, in case it explodes as we fear it well might.” “…And while you’re at it, as if they can’t see the smoke from here… send a distress signal to Dragonier. I would see how Ryu reacts to this, personally.”
“Yes sir.” His assistant said with a bow, rushing from the room as quickly as he could manage. Immediately behind him did the electric door shut and seal itself. The windows in which Volkov watched were also covered with plates of steel, and an additional security measure that was entirely his own, something called a ‘force field’.

Simply put, it’d take a lot of effort to take the President down.

[Avarice]

Astaroth was unconcerned. He would have cared little even if he had known what was happening, at least regarding the lockdown protecting Volkov’s life. He stood upon the back of a soldier in dragon form, hovering above the skirmish below and watching intently the curious ‘beings’ his men where destroying left-and-right.
These were alien to Astaroth, but they were still of little concern… sparing the ones that were actually fighting back. He’d lost around fifty Pureblood warriors thus far, only ten minutes into battle. Their weaponry was definitively superior to that of Astaroth’s army.
“…This shall not go well.” Astaroth stated to himself, his nose rising as a snide frown of anger crossed his face, “I shall render assistance. Let us see how these things respond to the powers of magic…”
On the ground, the Purebloods’ swords and axes tore through the formidable defenses of the robot workers and soldiers alike. But of the same token, the firearms of the droids also tore through their armor in equally effortless fashion. Bunkering down, a squad of ten Pureblood swordsmen glanced to one another with heavy frowns, signaling with a flash of the sun off their blades to an over-passing dragon.
Astaroth held off the spell he had in mind long enough to witness that dragon obliterate those machines with his breath… melting them even as their bullets ricocheted off his glorious scaling. “…No magic.” He stated then, his frown settling and going flat, “Dragon form. Engaging them in human form is suicide.”
There was no verbal command given, it was understood the moment Astaroth made up his mind. All at once the Purebloods took cover and begun transforming. It was soon becoming overkill. It was unsafe to stay in human form upon that isle any longer to begin with, the entirety of the land mass was slowly becoming engulfed in flames.
Officially Astaroth had ‘won’ the Island, but the cost of his victory had yet to be added up. Even as he turned his attention away from the battle so quickly coming to an end, in the wake of the mass transformation, Astaroth noticed a truly alien sight along the docks of the city ahead. “…What on Earth?” He asked quietly, examining the strange device rising from the hidden underground of the city, “Be that… a weapon!?”
A weapon? Something like that. The cannon was massive, nearly twenty feet in diameter, and fifty feet in length. It was made of polished metal, smooth sparing the ridges of exhaust vents glowing fiercely as the technology within begun its miraculous work.
Only the most intelligent of Kombinat’s scientists could explain it… so to say Astaroth had no idea what was in store for him was an understatement. As energy of a deep purple began forming about the muzzle of that weapon, Astaroth began to grow alarmed. “Fall back!” He roared, “Descend, into the water, all of you!”

Too late… almost

* * *

“Greywolf, we need you.” Ryu said as he rushed down through the main hall of the palace, even as Greywolf entered. “I know.” Greywolf said with a frown, “We’ve got an extra hand as well. I’m bringing these two with us. I need to train them in the real world before we head south anyway.”
Ryu nodded, glancing back as Ananias rushed downstairs. It was an awkward rush for the psychic, trying to get his sword on his belt even as he put it on and held his trousers up, but he could manage. Lavoisier however was far different… constantly looking back, preoccupied with his concern for his wife.
A touching sentiment it was, but they had not the time for it. “Lavoi! Hurry the hell up, please!” Ryu shouted firmly, trying not to be overly forceful with his brother-in-law, “It will be alright, she’s fine! Come on!”
Lavoisier growled and raced on, swallowing his emotions and forcing them aside. It had been years since he’d found himself having to do that again… and he realized how badly he did not miss it. “Be easy.” Ananias offered as he fastened his belt, “The kid’s wife’s… sick.”
Greywolf’s brow rose, but he asked no questions… though he did pause, to salute Vic in farewell. Sadly, the husbands had no time to say true farewells to their wives. The call for aid from Kombinat was urgent, and judging by the flames they would probably arrive late in any event… with or without the magic of teleportation via the Eldritch clan.
Saphira sighed heavily as those large double-doors shut behind their beloved husbands, glancing to her equally heartbroken counterparts and their confused and unhappy infants whom wiggled about in search for their fathers. This, this is what she’d feared. This is what she had dreaded so badly…
“They’ll be back sooner than later…” Sherri offered hopefully, though in truth she was just saying such things to comfort herself. “Yeah… sure.” Vic spat with a shake of her head, cradling Danielle closely, “Fuck this life, I swear to God…”
Saphira lowered her gaze. “Don’t, Vic. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. There are people dying, even as we speak.” She said quietly, “Our husbands… they have a duty to save as many as they can, to protect this world… to protect us.” “…And while it does hurt… and I’d love to break down and sob right now… we have children to think of as well. We have to be strong, for them.”
Sherri and Vic shared a glance. Usually the shoe was on the other foot, when it came to situations like this. They were the ones saying such things to Saphira… not vice-versa. It was an obvious sign of Saphira’s maturity, as she came into her own as a full-fledged woman.

A Queen, no longer a Princess.

The same could be said for Ryu, no longer a Prince… but a King. His heart was heavy, but his jaw was held high and firm in the face of the grim reality of their situation. Tico and a force of five hundred Light Dragon warriors both of his clan and various others were already gathering outside the walls as Ryu and company exited, the mages were already preparing to warp the five legions to the battlefield.
Ryu and his friends assembled separately with a legion of their own, in which they were to command. Tico would handle the fifth, as it were. Organized and more than ready to take the fight to their enemy, the soldiers shouted their war cries even as the mages begun to cast their spells.
Watching, the multitudes of Dragonier saluted their vanishing heroes and tried to keep their minds away from the plight of their human allies in Kombinat… for they knew far too well just what the humans were going through. Ironically of course, it had been humans who had put them through such experiences, but as could obviously be seen the true good of the Brood was limitless despite the horrific flaws of the Gods who created them.
…Which was exactly why the terrified citizens of Kombinat, having evacuated the city far ahead of schedule, cheered so loudly when the army of Dragonier appeared just outside of their city’s perimeter.
The pause of the army however was not to acknowledge the cheering (though they would certainly make note to do so later), it was for the fact they saw in their new surroundings they had misjudged the situation. The flames and smoke… from Dragonier it was impossible to tell it was coming from anywhere but the city before them. But now, they could see to their great relief it was off-shore.

And they could also see, of course, the cannon.

Ryu paused, half-gawking at the size of the weapon. They were clear across the city from the thing, but it was still larger than life itself. Glancing to his side, Ryu recognized the sly grin of satisfaction on Tico’s face… and knew immediately it was best that, at this point… they hold back.
“…What is that?” Lavoisier asked, blinking as a deeply concerned look began crossing his face. “The call it an Ion Cannon. I don’t know what an Ion is, but they say it’s supposed to be all-powerful.” Tico explained simply, “I didn’t think they’d pull it out this soon, though. I could’ve sworn they said it wasn’t finished yet, or something.”
Greywolf frowned heavily. “The early days of building firearms were highly dangerous… untested devices, such as that… have a bad tendency to do more damage than to render aid.” He said quietly. “Then we’re staying exactly where we are, if we don’t move even further back.” Ryu replied with a shake of his head, “I don’t know what’s going on over there… but if they’re already using this…”
Tico shrugged. “Testing it, probably going to have one of those machine men to fire it just in case it does explode.” He offered, “I’d do the same thing. Best to test machines before the real battle starts. They’ve probably evacuated for that reason by itself as well…hmph, too bad we can’t get a better view.”

Lavoisier blinked. “Who says!?”