Rip in pip Raphael

The mighty black beast soared into the sky, leaving most of the ratty nivis behind. Though one person managed to persue her. Raina... Of course it was Raina. Well, it looked like she was about to get the fight she was looking for. This was something he could handle. The full shift had allowed him to minimize his wounds, scales covering the blood that poured out. Though, not perfectly.

It would drip forth from his blackened scales, leaving crimson stains on the pattern. After getting a decent distance away, the black scaled dragon would tuck his wings in, spiraling towards the ground. The massive wingspan would burst open, allowing him to glide, as claws dug into the ground as he spun to face Raina.

A roar would burst forward, if Raina could understand the old tongue that was dragon, she'd understand it as 'YOU DARE PURSUE ME? YOU WRETCH I WILL RIP OUT YOUR THROAT, AND FEED IT TO THE WOLVES'

Of course, that would have been a chain of aggressive roars and snarls, rolling together to form speech.

Wait... was she... turning into a dragon? No... that wasn't possible. That didn't make sense. This was not allowed. She was not fit to have such a power! There were subtle differences however, that Raphael would quickly pick up on. The proportion seeming off, colouration not right. Even for a shadowflame dragon it wasn't right.

Now she was speaking to him... What was that? Atrocious is what it was. "SPEAK LIKE A DRAGON. DO NOT INSULT THE LANGUAGE OF OLD" he'd roar once again, a mightly claw slamming against the ground in rage.

Raphael was fumming. The wrath of a true dragon was about to be unleashed. He'd take not of the Deciever's charge, and launch his own. The ground quaked underneath his sheer weight, splintering with each bound. He was aiming to sink his fangs right into her neck.

(Raphael A. Roland)

Okay, big mistake was approaching this with the idea that 'bigger' was 'better', the Deceiver was clunky within this new shape she'd obtained. Rattling steps sending quakes across the earth as her wings rose defiantly as she bellowed, nothing too intelligible, but it was most likely an insult knowing the snarky little bastard the Deceiver had become. Indeed her clumsy use of limbs, wings, and everything in general was a Source Send for the dilapidated parasite molding this noble beast.

The bite struck against her right wing, due to her awkward fumble of a charge. But pain, was a life lesson. Crimson squirting from the wound as strong bones were cut through, blood smearing the grassland as a fiery bellow wavered across the land, trees ablaze in a midnight scorch, missing her target by a bloody landslide needless to say.

Wheezing and huffing, her retaliation towards him was a low blow. One focusing on her main trait--Deceit. As she tumbled face forward, the burning sensation in her wing a distraction yet burning fuel to feel a win, a victory. She slashed towards the Dragon's leg, her claws oddly disproportionate, some sharper and longer whilst others were short and thin, flexible.

Be it a hit or a not, the beast used her momentum to continue forward, bashing into one of the nearby trees and sending its flaming corpse into a ground. Sheesh, this.. Reigning in her senses, The Deceiver knew that she needed to get the reigns of this new, foreign body, and she needed to understand it now.

Awkwardly, she shambled to her feet, blood dribbling down her torn wing as she snarled darkly. It was thin, she had only done visuals. Yes, of course. Hunkering down, the scales across her body glimmered and shimmered, thickening to that of the average Dragon's strength, and not her previously.. Meek form. Challengingly, she arched upon her hind legs, expanding her wings, including the torn one.

It was clear she had broken away from pure unbridled emotion, and was now leaning to traits of old. Analyzing, figuring it out.

The real snake in the grass, the real rat in Dragons clothing, remained in her aggressive poise, waiting for another attack.
(The Deciever)

The claws dug into Raphael's hind leg awkwardly, twisting inside of him. Letting to fanged grip on the wing go, he'd howl out, rage filling within the beast. Blood spurted forth, scales and flesh twisting. Gushing forth, spilling onto the grassy plains below. Slowly creating a sea of red. He would not lose. A dragon could not, WOULD NOT lose to something so... vile. Disrespectful. A roaring howl of pain burst forth as the mimiced dragon's claw did it's work. But he would push on.

Lifting himself up onto his hind legs as the Deciever charged forth, he'd slam himself down onto her back, claws raking against the scales, attempting to rip them up and sink the sharp, jagged appendages that were his claws into the flesh below.

Steam puffed from his nostrils in bursts as he grunted, dealing with the pain of his leg, and horns ramming against his stomach. But it was something he needed to endure, and would endure. The dragon was ferocious, aggressive, and most importantly. Driven to win.

Quick howls and roars would burst forth as he dug deeper into the Deciever's back. "YOU. WILL. NOT. WIN. YOU WILL DIE HEEEREEE" And with that, he would try to sink his fangs into anything he could get his maw on. Whether it be an arm, or a wing. It did not matter. Whatever it was would be bitten. Hard. A tearing motion proceeding, trying to rip whatever he'd grab apart.
(Raphael A. Roland)

Once more! Still quite new to this body, but slowly gaining use over it. The aches and pains were nothing. The mimic hadn't lived fourteen years, to accomplish nothing. The words were partially understand, demanding of her death. Thinking, thinking. That's all Bailey had to do! Searing pain tore through her backside. It's hide thickened, the ooze it was made of contorting and twisting upon its body.

It was clear as the moonlight cascading across the sky that this was no dragon, that Raphael had been clearly right in his assertions. Perhaps he was too blinded by rage to notice it as he cut through her scales and tore into her shoulders with his talons. Spurts of crimson trailing across her form.

She was going to lose.. No, she wasn't ready to die. Death, death was frightening.

Yanking back she let out a bellow, standing her distance, covered in strands of crimson. Then, in a seemingly hasty move she rushed Raphael, a full on bull charge which seemed easy to counter. But there was something off about the Dragon's method, it was as if the great beast was trying to get hurt by the far more superior Omega before it. It seemed like a suicidal maneuver.

But onwards it moved, with calculating eyes. It's claws risen in attack, maw opening as it tried to bite Raphael's shoulder, an attempt to taste his blood and tear through his scales.
(The Deciever)

The smaller beast was successful in it's attempt, knocking Raphael onto his back, wings sprawled out against the floor as the Deciever's fangs jarred into his shoulder. A loud roar echoed through the area, as he cried out. Blood seeping from the wound.

Adrenaline had begun to rise within him. His heartbeat was racing. His head began to swing wildly, claws trying to find a place to grip into the enemy. Ooze flinging itself from his talons all over himself, the ground, and the spots to which he was trying to sink into.

After regaining control, his mind would begin to fill with thoughts. Terrifying thoughts that clouded his mind, his judgement. Instinct kicking into full gear as his maw came striking down against her neck, fangs trying to sink in as deep as they could. If successful in the attempt, the two would be bearing down on eachother with tremendous force.

Tearing motion again. Raphael's head would begin to jerk, either trying to get a better grip on the Deciever's neck, or if a proper grip had been established, trying to rip whatever he could out from the location.

Steam was still blasting from his nostrils, filling the air with a thick haze. The area was a war zone. Ground shattered, trees burnt and splintered, blood and ooze splashes all over the surface of the area. It was truly a frightening scene for anyone to witness.
(Raphael A. Roland)

The bait had been planted, and it had been taken. The form was much more dilapidated then before, and as the Omega tore into its throat, a twisted toothy smile pulsed across its lips. The blood, once crimson, turned vile within his mouth. The flesh, molded, oozing. Sizzles immediately pervaded the forest as a great Omega began to tear into the flesh of a Mimic, the once dragon-esque mold now a tar like sculpture. Depravity thick within the air.

Slime dribbled from its flesh as it made a great effort to keep Raphael held down, hoping that her acid-like body would burn through scale and flesh. But, he had torn straight into it. Wrenched into its thick neck and caused a flow of acid-like blood to sizzle within his mouth. A chuckle, low, throaty, evil, reverberated throughout the forest. The sheer amount of depravity choking the life out of the smaller mammals, birds flopped out of trees, rabbits fell silent and limp against the grass.

The world, dying around her form. With each glob of slimey, sickening ooze. Came with it the rot of the earth. Grass and dirt bending against the sheer amount of it. "I.. not l..ive... s..o l.ong.. to.. di..e..!" It was as best as the creature could bellow within garbled dragon speak. Its eyes glowing golden yellow as it dripped its acidic nature atop of Raphael.

Fire contorted within its slimey mouth, but it wasn't normal fire persay. It was inhaling, deeper, and deeper. Trying to hold Raphael down and steady. To try and blast a pure mind-numbing wave of physical depravity onto the true King's face. "D....I..E!"
(The Deciever)

He felt the acidic body sear into him. It burned. It tasted awful. But this was one fight he WOULD NOT LOSE. Fangs bearing DEEPER. DEEPER INTO THE ENEMY. RIP IT TO SHREDS. TEAR APART WHAT STANDS BEFORE YOU. LOSING IS NOT AN OPTION.

His mind began to race, and so did his heart. Blood and adrenaline surged through his veins. Hind legs would tuck underneath the mimic. Claws trying to rip apart anything and everything they could get a hold of as the hind legs PUSHED as hard as they could. Every muscle in the Omega dragon's body trying to fling the mimic off of him.

If successful in this, he'd flip himself over onto all fours and start licking at the ground, injesting dirt and grass, only to just vomit it up as waves of fire streamed from his mouth, trying to get rid of and burn any of the acidic form that had found its way into his system.

Violent shaking to try and rid any ooze from his body before it could eat too far into his scales. "MIMIC. I WAS RIGHT. YOU FILTHY DEPRAVED ABOMINATION. I WILL RID YOU FROM THIS WORLD. DIE. DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS." He'd roar, smashing his claws against the ground, before charging forward to ram his sharp, gnarled horns into the Deciever.
(Raphael A. Roland)

The stench of depravity weighed heavy in the air. its body heavying, hardening, solidifying. But an Omega Dragon was no laughing matter. Once, twice, and then finally the filth was pushed away from Raphael's form, landing away as it chortled wildly. Except, it was a thousand little voices. All laughing out of sync. A chorus of madness. Some sounded afraid, others sounded bitter, a few sounded jubilant.

The mimic's were known for their resistance towards fire. The flames doing little to stem the eroding acid from nipping at Raphael's scales. Though, there was fear in the creature's uneven yellow eyes. It's breath having held in when it was shaken away from the Omega's form. The threats, the anger. The horns rushing forward. It was a risky maneuver for the mimic.

As he charged, Bailey Flux witnessed its life flash before its eyes. And it felt a burning desire, one that fueled it to take the shape of a Roland, the desperation, the brokenness that came with it. Standing her ground she exhaled the depravity towards the charging Omega, with one, rush of adrenaline, one, loud below, trails of goop slung from its clawed at form, flinging into trees, burning and radiating with the thick stench of disgust, turmoil, loss.

It spoke no words as the depraved air broke through its lungs. Toxic, thick, foul smelling and deadly. Trees withered, animals fell and rotted, to a state of decay. Wychwood's beauty now tainted to an almost plague-like state. Rivers running red with bloodied water, reminiscent to that of the Plague days. Festering decay and rot, spat into the face of danger as it roared, as it tried to reject the fate Raphael was attempting to condemn it to.
(The Deciever)

The smog choked the air around them. The area withered and melted into depravity. Raphael's breath became quick, and short. But he would push on. His aim remaining true. Horns piercing into the mass that was Bailey.

Once pierced, he'd begin to violently stomp about, shaking his head, horns ripping and slashing at the mass before him. Kill it. Reduce it to nothing. Kill it kill it kill it kill it KILL IT.

Nothing but rage and hatred was left in Raphael at this moment. Disgust and hate fueled his actions, driving him forward. He didn't have long to finish things up. He could feel the depravity laced air slowly choking him.

Pushing forward again, Raphael would raise his talons up, tearing at the Deciever. A true rampaging dragon was what he had become. Fueled by nothing more than the intent to kill. At this point, it was kill or be killed. And he had no intention of the latter happening.

Raphael was going for it's heart. He wanted it dead. Destroy the vital organs. He was digging for it, trying to push deeper and deeper into it's carcass with horns and claws alike. If he managed to find it, he would try to tear the organ apart. Smash it into the dirt.

Regardless of what he did or didn't find, chunks of bailey's... body, if it could even be called that would be strewn across the area. Literally tearing it apart.

Though, he could no longer stand digging around inside the acidic form. It was burning him too fiercely, causing him to try and back off. He could still feel chunks of goo in his mouth, slowly eroding through teeth and tissue. More dirt. More grass. He'd scoop a bunch of it into his mouth, tongue flicking it about trying to collect the acid against it to spit it out and rid himself of the fowl substance.
(Raphael A. Roland)

It was digging through her, digging through the facade of organs, trying to find its core. Bailey's eyes widened in surprise. It felt like every inch was being torn apart. Thick slabs of ooze slamming into nearby trees. Smattering messily against the grassy ground as she roared. The mimic did the only imaginable thing it could do. It's acidic body bubbled and contorted as Bailey closed in around the mimic, drowning him in its ooze. Its entire body shuddering.

Tearing away at flesh, scales, claws. It didn't matter. The one little whisper echoed through it's dilapidated husk, an abomination let live. But, oddly enough the Mimic worked to make it a painless death. Perhaps a vain attempt, perhaps a successful one. Numbing at the Omega's organs. Shutting him down..

No... Sleep.

Came the eerie whisper. Perhaps this would only enrage the dying dragon more. Maybe Bailey was mocking him. Or maybe the creature felt what it had when it'd killed Folka so many years ago. That tinge of guilt. Knowing full well, that it was killing someones Father, someone that cared for it, knew not its true nature.

The voice was soft, gentle, wafting. Akin to the real Stena Roland. But, death even as vainly attempted at painless as it could be. Would be absolutely painful. Then, the dreaded tugging begin. Why did the Mimic kill Folka? He had travelled with a woman that took a sample of it. Why did the Mimic kill Raphael? He was in her way. But, why did it kill in general?

It was an odd sensation. Akin to a 'dreamless' state. The memories of its old parent Doppleganger, Kudlak Malpercius. Memories of The Necromancer, and what it knew of Souls. So, this monstrosity destined for evil felt briefly within its husk, the guilt of robbing a child of its Father. The guilt of robbing Friends of their compatriot as it did that blind woman ages ago.

Until nothing more but skeletal remains of the great dragon rested, alongside it within the slimelike ooze, returning to its original base state to rest, glowed the soul of the Great Dragon King of the North. Pulsating with untold waves of power, mana stronger, and far more potent then its previous victim.

Quietly, an earthen shell wrapped around its body as the Mimic stared down at the bones. Not yet taking the visage of Raina Roland. "You're a dragon..." Her eyes hung solemn, golden hues staring towards the ground for a brief few moments. "I've killed two... It's odd, how it never gets easier..." Whispering words, a dazed stare as she stared at her earthen shell, crumbling with weakened earth magic.

".... I'll..." Her head hung as she mumbled. "I'm just a coward, wishing for wings..." With that, the ooze slithered off. Leaving the dragon's bone to rest against the dirt. "Least you'll be near your son forever, as long as I breath.." The soul within kept safely, contained. The Dragon bones would never be used for a weapon, but the soul. One could only wonder what the mimic would do with it to 'honor' a man she had slandered ruthlessly. "I'm sorry.." A meaningless apology, but one nonetheless.
(Raina Roland)

It seemed that everything he did was all for naught. A vain effort to live. To return to his son. His only goal was to return home, to see his boy, perhaps one last time. But that wasn't going to happen. The mimic had begun engulfing the massive form, the burning feeling of an acidic body quickly faded away, something numbing the sensation.

As his body corroded, he knew he wasn't getting out of it alive. Thoughts began to flash before his eyes. His son, Jericho. His late wife Stena, who he would shortly be joining in the afterlife. Bright images soared across his mind, taking him back in time, through hardships and times of happiness. Time of sadness, and glory. All of it seemed so pointless now.

It seemed Raphael would be dying with two regrets. Not being able to exectute Helena Scarlett, and not being able to see his child one last time... to say goodbye.

Soon, there would be nothing left of Raphael's massive body except preserved set of large dragon bones, and a large soul to match it. The soul was bright, pulsating in it's form. As the earthen shell began to encase what was remaining of Raphael, his essence. It began to shine brighter, the roar of a dragon echoing faintly through the area.

The soul began to swell, resisting against the shell. It would eventually be completely consumed, but shake violently. This was Raphael's final stand. He would not allow himself to be captured. He wanted to be with Stena. He wanted to say goodbye to his son.

Cracks began to form in the shell, light piercing through as it exploded forth from the prison. Taking form of a dragon, pure light began to soar into the air, blazing through the night sky like a comet.

It would reach the heavens, bursting into the shape of a dragon's head, roaring in the sky above frostvale before twinkling out into a star.

The man known as Raphael came into the world a human, but would leave as a noble dragon...

free.


(Raphael A. Roland)