Theria's Coup

At the very least, Dun Task was no longer in danger.

But... the Archon had a personal stake in Dun's survival; for as long as that was a thing, clearly, the Serpent would not allow him to die so easily- and much as it would be expected, the snake-eyes already stare towards Revan's task.

He inches close..
Closer.

"Curious.."

"Why is it that Dun Task is being poisoned in his own city.."

Displeasure. It felt like betrayal at hands of some Therians- something that he would foresee.

But the presence of the Archon is easily felt.

This night is likely not over for Revan Task yet.
(Morok)

Morok's emits a maleficent aura of sweeping death that grows and twists throughout the surrounding area.

"You disgusting... batard."

The fact that the Task lived by any means, only meant that they were worthy of surviving this far. So, seeing that the chance for them to perish actually happened and went by without even a scratch, the rage that he felt was rising.

Pachua wasn't mad about an honor duel, he didn't have a reason for such a thing to happen.

Pachua wasn't mad when someone got in the way of doing such, and if it was under the respectful terms of a fair one on one, there wouldn't be a reason for him to actually get involved in this.

However, it was when they went too far with doing something that was very, very anti-therian. That was when he moved forward with the only intents to beat their face down and ruin them.

"You poisoned and crippled, old man, and then asked for an honor duel."

"You're no dragon. You're just a coward that was striving for some relevance in power."

"I will not tolerate it. I refuse to tolerate it. This is for your title as a 'Priest' you slithering fish."

The fists went up, and his eyes serpent eyes focused entirely on Revan in their entirety as there wasn't a second guess of his actions.

Pachua knew that the only way for this horrible mistake to go forth, was with the glory of punching them down, even going forth to mortally wound them if he had to.

If this was what family as like, they didn't matter. Even in the face of death by Morok, he didn't care.
(Pachua)

His father had set the chaotic flame that burned, but Revan was the one that carefully tended to the tinder that would brighten it's flame for the new generation. Revan had been the slowest Task in his growth, struggling during their Father's training as kids, and running off to see what the world had to offer as soon as he was let off the leash.

Dun was a man of great power and influence, and there wasn't a thing Revan didn't think his father couldn't do, even as he was fed the powerful poison. Revan still believed that his father was above it, having some immunity to it. It mostly served as a declaration more than anything.

As they marched to the very arena, his Father's words would oddly enough hit his armor like crumpled paper. He knew they were sincere from the man, but with the path Revan had put himself on, they held no weight. His father would try to cut him down and get in his head before the fight, but the newest Patriarch would follow what he felt to be true.

Standing against his first Master, this was a test, Revan had studied the old man for well over two decades, copied his techniques to the best of his abilities and adapted his own technique to it. It was a path of pain and struggling, it was the path of determination and will power.

This was more than just a fight of Father vs Son, this was more than just about the future of Theria, this was their very wills and wishes made manifest and put to the utmost test. The crowd that had gathered would see nothing but a spectacle of martial arts as blows powerful enough to shake the stone walls would echo out. Strikes deflected and redirected.

Even with poison in his veins, The Clown Prince was nothing to scoff at. He would punish Revan thoroughly for stepping so far out of line. It felt like he was a child again, Dun scolding him for any mistake he might've made during the lesson.

Yet Revan would let go, the smoldering hole in his chest put by the previous Headpriest would burn as the fight would go on. Revan wasn't in his prime either, but he would let go, letting the mana around him guide him just as his own Father had shown him. Spying how his father masterfully manipulated Revan's energy against him, Revan would emulate him one last time.

The time of the battle turning in his favor as the rush of azure mana begins to overwhelm the elder Fireblooded until he's eventually left on his knees before the floor. Anger and ambition drove Revan forward, standing above his teacher, his father, and the monster that killed his mother.

Golden hues of a dragon would burn through his crumpled form as Pachua would spit his own words of anger. And again, the same words that rung out to him when he challenged his father would ring out.

Don't make the same mistake as me or 'yer father.

It was the Therian way to kill right there, it was what was done to his sister, and Dun's daughter, yet perhaps it was his wife's influence that would make him think of an alternative. Even if he knew of his father's strength and potential to fight off the magibane, other did not, and would see the act otherwise.

"The poison was nothing more than a garnish, the underhanded way my father taught me. To work in the shadows and drive the knife deepest when you're at your target's side. I wanted to show him I didn't discard all of his teachings- Yet as I stand over him now, I make a declaration as Patriarch of The Pyrelight Citadel."

A sharp inhale as he addressed those that might had scrutinized his methods, this was intimately a family affair, and Revan handled in in the most fitting way he thought possible.

"Dun Task, you are hearby excommunicated from the Fireblooded faith."

It was all he could do short of killing the man, but why give him the relief of death when he was so old? Part of Revan wished for his father to see what he would do when he usurped him.

"Never will your soul enter the gates of Vanaheim- not in this life atleast. And with that, The Fireblooded will now mobilize against all demons and their sympathizers. Theria will no longer house their taint, and we will fight them back to the crevices from whence they hid before."

Making his announcements, he would stand tall, ready to stand amongst his supporters against those that would support his father.
(Revan Task)

Traitors.

When they were so close to pushing aside Myllenoris and forcing the progress unlike any other to this land.. were they going to condemn this land as something that could only follow the orders of Myllenoris? The orders of static policies?


"You are a fool, Revan Task - and a cowardly one, to poison your own father."

"Your father has fought for the freedom of this land, for evolution of humanity that could rid you all of the endless flaws that enforce stagnation and rule under the thumb of another."

"Any that follow the static order would rather sink themselves in peaceful stagnation - and you are an abomination to the Task family."


The shadows swirl. The immense power of the Archon would make its presence here- to allow this foothold to be lost is not something that was within his plans. Here, the deepening shadows would show the full intent of the Serpent..

The intent to end this treacherous charade.


"Those that choose to stand by Revan Task will die."


Without further delay, the Archon stretches the shadows towards Revan.


To execute him on spot, if he must.

Right infront of everyone.

(Morok)


Athanoti would raise her head with the inspiration from his words. It's finally here.

 Holy war has been declared.  Her plasmatic aura would violently combust around her, full of anticipation and hatred to the supporters of the demons.

Athanoti would raise her sword into the air, using explosions to amplify her voice for the rest of the Fireblooded supporters to hear that it is time.

It is time for an excursion.


 "LET US MOVE, BROTHER AND SISTERS OF THE SWORD! FOR RYUJIN!"

The primal roar of a Rhonyish fills the surroundings as she charges at the nearest demon, which would be Luxa.

And with that, they will be put into their place.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE YOU DEMON SCUM!"


(Athanoti Mälenköch)


With Pachua engaging towards Revan, a mere moment is looked into- a Rhoynish woman that once claimed the cause behind Nightbound, now lingering about for years without action.

"Were you not retired?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll kill you first."

The shadows extend towards Athanoti, and snatch her out of the way while she attempts to assault an inferior Demon, Luxa.

"Die."

The sword swings towards her first, intending to execute her.
(Morok)

[Failed pursue]

Athanoti would engage the mutt with ease. She would float around her opponent quickly, using her ample agility and her swordsmanship to pummel the dog into submission.

Fierce waves of fire roll over them, meanwhile explosions coat the outside of the dog and Athanoti herself most of the time. The sounds emitted during this fight were immensely deafening, probably deafening even Morok and any other bystanders.

Her swordmanship was superior to any beginner as well. Years of dedication shows what she can do with her veteran sword. The razor-sharp blade would slice through their skin and hair, leaving nasty, giant gashes in their skin. Thought, little blood was spilt, as the wounds were cauterizing themselves with the extreme heats that they are putting the poor mutt through.

"For Ryujin."  Three strong smacks by her Nyeshk hand would break and dislocate many of the wolf's bones.

And, to top it off, fire rolled over them, scorching them and burning most of their hair off, ot leave their under-layer visible for the whole world.

How pathetic.
(Athanoti Mälenköch)

So close.

The Archon was almost able to intercept Athanoti, but unfortunately, just a little bit late before she could grasp onto Luxa and injure him like this- though, it would mean that she's unable to truly escape anymore. It would mean that she is to be within his grasp now.

"You faced an inferior, feeble Demon."

"Now face someone you ought to be facing."

The shadows deepen. Unlike the opponent she just faced, this one is much better prepared for this endeavour- the crystal of Lady Erie's Greed more than ready to take away all the essence she could spare..

And perhaps some more.

"Come."

Without being given much of a choice, the Archon suddenly strikes her.
(Morok)

Athanoti would raise herself up from smashing the demon dog onto the ground, panting slightly.

"Each demon the same.

That's what it's always been right?" She would give him a demented cackle.

The rage-infused bliss in her eyes was obvious already. Eyes tinting to a bloody crimson, she readies herself to fight.
(Athanoti Mälenköch)

Should she ever believe herself to be good enough to face the Archon?

Preposterous... to think that she was worthy enough to stand in the presence of the greatness that is Morok is to be foolish- for each time that the swordswoman tried to cut and slash at the Serpent, she could only find herself subjected to the horrible experience of metaphysical warp within her mind.

The shadows dance.

Piece by piece, they tear away at her flesh, intending to strip away all that she was worth of- and it's only there that she's subjected to the true horrors of what lies beyond, the complex runes and arithmancy made to open the seal to Helheim, right in the middle of Theria.


"Did you honestly think that you can compare yourself to me?"

"Insolent worm. Know your place."


No amount of fire or fiery heart that she possessed would be enough in order to cut him down- instead, the Damned that were unsealed from the door to Helheim dragged upon her hand; feasting, ripping it, tainting it.

All of her essence shared taken by Lady Erie's Greed, the crystal in his possession.


"Kill her."


The Archon leaves a single message to the Damned- they attempt to drag her off to Helheim with them, to curse her to the same Damnation that follows them.

But Morok?

He doesn't even look. He has something else to finish - he has Revan Task to kill.

Whether Athanoti survives or not is no longer his concern.
(Morok)

The words did not carry the suffering that would likely come from him seeking the dragons out for forgiveness- a mission that already seemed doomed to start as a honor was not something simply given. However, with his Task name stripped from him, and the expectations with it, Revan would feel as if something was missing from him.

Yet still he stood.

The angered fire within him tempered amongst the chaos about him, Zion's word were allowed to reach him more deeply as he tried to dissect it. His anger did not stem from whatever went down between the two Tasks, but instead how it was handled. Again he was criticized for only having supporters around, and Revan would throw his arms open.

"Only my supporters? Look at this. This is revolution. I gave the tea publicly and made my claim. Demons and Therians each rallied. I apologize for how it happened, Zion, but this has been a powder keg that has been left untended for far too long."

Perhaps it was the draconic pride instilled in him that ignited his words as he defended himself once more. Yet he still had more to say as he turned his proclamation to the crowd.

"Though let it be known that was my last dastardly and unhanded move, my father puts on an act- but Tasks have no sense of honor. Tasks do their dealings in the dark pulling the strings, they are nothing more than snakes. So with that act, it was my last as a Task. Stripped of my name, I dedicate my being to the Fireblooded and the Dragons, and I will do everything I can to redeem my honor to you, Zion."

Though the demons would push through, as they were apt to do, and Morok would turn his attention back to his horned visage.

"I am no coward, demon, and I will face you here."

He could not ask his fellow Fireblooded to do what he would not himself, and though he was still carried his own grievous injuries, he would turn and take his stance t ensure the crusade would live on.
(Revan Task)

Bold words of bravado.

Whom do they help? Is it made to let Revan feel better about what he performed, or is it a necessity for him to believe that he's doing the right thing? As far as he could tell, this is an act of desperation..

"You poison your own father before a duel.."

"Yet you actually try to speak of this fickle 'honor', so you claim?"

Humans could never amount to anything with their incessant pleas for retribution; they could never amount to anything with their own strength, and it is why they resort to petty tactics like these. But in the end, it won't be of any help to Revan, no.

It would be his end.

"But--"

It's not too long before his eyes turn towards Pachua. Another one, a young drakanite, willing to face against Revan? It almost causes him to smile.

It almost causes him to laugh.


"I see.."

"Perhaps, there are some worthy specimen around here."


The shadows warp- they create an area for Pachua and Revan to fight; and as much as the Serpent was more than convinced that experienced Revan Task would be able to take on a young drakanite..

If he could not? This would be laughable.

"Go, then, young drakanite."

"Remove the head of somebody who would rather let your city sink to the ways of another - to stagnation within peace that brings nothing but breeds incompetence."

The being of immense power, the Serpentine Archon, now had all of his attention upon Pachua. Whether he would disappoint or not in this combat remains largely irrelevant..

He already impressed him more by willing to do this - unlike snivelling cowards that bide their time in the corners of a city, like rats.


"Take your future, child."

"It's waiting, right infront of you."


(Morok)

[ZION TRIES TO ATTACK PACHUA]

The Archon snatches Zion mid-air with the shadows; for all intents and purposes, he would either have to face the Archon..

Or calm down.

"Settle your differences later."

"Your pride can wait in the face of something more important."
(Morok)

"It seems I need to make an example of why I am the shadow of this city. Don't fucking toy with me. I am not your father, mother, brother, sister, neither."

As Morok were to pursue him and prevent him from engaging a battle with Pachua.

"A demon, in my city, stopping me from acting out my justice." Zion sighed and unsheathed his sword.
(Zion Cai)

"A demon..?"

Clearly, Zion did not understand whom he's addressing. This was not just a 'demon' that he would be addressing; this would be the absolute of Esshar in the times to come- this would be the solution to humanity's woes, and it would be something to evolve them.

"It is Morok to you. The Archon."

"You will find out the folly of your ways."

Where the sword is unsheathed to cut against the Serpentine Archon, the reality itself seems to shift; the manifestation of the Damned, trying to pierce through the gates to the Helheim, conjured through the complex runework and arithmancy alike.

Fed by the crystal of Lady Erie's Greed.

"You will be silenced."
(Morok)

{RP BATTLE} You have WON the battle!

Zion Cai has sustained an injury in battle...

Zion Cai has rolled 2 or under: they may be captured!

Someone worthy.

Someone who would be actually worthwhile of standing before the Archon and showing their might to him- for as far as he could tell, this was no ordinary man that could be easily opposed - even if he lacked the necessary obedience in order to silence himself.

But the Archon feels it.
The Archon can tell of the power behind his sword.

With how it slashes against his body and how the blood spills, there's an expression of a shock and pain that is placed upon his face- soon to be replaced by genuine.. satisfaction?


"Hahahaha.."
"Ahahaha!"

"You bastard. You almost got me. I even feel those wounds."


For as far as he could tell, this is something that left the Archon satisfied with the warrior's performance. The deepening shadows, however, would soon strike back- if only to bring him down before the Archon.


"Still.."

"Not enough! Not enough at all."


And it is here, where the shadows find their way to snatch at the drakanite, he becomes immobilized; the crystal of Lady Erie's Greed sapping at his essence - and in return, unveiling the horrors of Helheim as the Damned reach out to him through the temporary gates.

To tear at him, to burn his flesh, to wound him.

Until they feasted enough- the Archon's hand reaches out to grasp upon Zion, and soon to drag him along; with surprising physical strength behind his grasp.

"A worthy warrior."

"You will accompany me."
(Morok)

The battle was hard fought he could see that the demon respected his strength by the way in which he moved it did remind him of Irkala. Irkala was different however even though they were quite very much similar.

As blades clashed against the clone and even many other things. His battle was off. He was maybe close but very short in this distance in which he was able to attack.

He missed out on his chances of actually closing the battle off and finishing the battle in which he would have liked to.

"Almost but enough." He said with a slight yell.

He took this time to reflect that maybe he hasn't reached the pinnacle of his own abilities. And with that brought into consideration Zion had decided to actually start training again.

It was an honor duel, he fought and he lost fair and square. There was no shame upon him. Drakanites tend to be prideful and believe all can be inferior to him so it was an ego checker at this very moment.

See visions of hell and having the lingering affect of occult around and near him only made him take a deep breath and then start to reach within his robe and proceed to grab an elixir within his pocket.

Coughing just a moment he rubbed his eyes. "Tooo fucking sha." He said coughing in defeat and laughing at the Archon. "You fight like Irkala."

"Accompany you?" He said with a slight laugh. "What your demon friends throwing a party?"

(Zion Cai)

The tempest of the winds would turn and move about as the gentle dance of the Winged Serpent would continue forth. As a slither, the only thing that would come from his hands and palms were the graces of the winds as each struck at the very chest of Revan Task and their entirety.

With every strike, the encompassing winds would strike and pursue with the only clear intentions of striking them down and out without any further reason to see them speak; each clash of the winds were met with antoher one, and in the very end, the only thing that would continue and preserve was the every striking distance that came from his palms.

With every dance, another strike that pushed them forwards and forwards, leaving only their body to start to realize that they weren't winning this. As a serpent, the only thing that he would do was quick witted strikes that would lead them to their own very doom.

Each palm to a pressure point that would weaken them, lower them, fromthe grand height of what they used to be to the very knees as if they were just a single child. With that being said and done, the only thing that would follow was a swift Round house kick that would take off the very helmet they wore and press it onto the ground.

"You lost."

The very palm went towards their face, not aiming to do the finishing blow, but to end this very duel that was so up and coming, and with that very word, the following statement.

"I'm the one in charge of Pyrelight, and as my first decree, you, Revan ORN Task, are excommunicated."

"Dun Task is rewarded Fotia (Saint Hood), not just because of his efforts in preserving Theria for hundreds of years, but also making sure that everyone that is worthy of a weapon, has a weapon, has armor, has a place to consider home.

For keeping this place free."

That being said?

"If any of you want to fight against the demons, so be it. You are Therian. You are allowed to do as you please whenever you want. It doesn't matter what you worship, or what you care about, but if your belief that they should be pushed back and away, then do so."

"I am not in charge of your life."

"I am not in charge of your roads."

"If you hate the demons, then so be it. Just remember one thing, they helped in making sure that Theria did not fall to the Dragon Slayers west. So, do so in your own avale and with your own lives."

Pachua would then go for the ornament that was the helmet, only letting it adorn his belt on the side.

"Be free. Do what you want. You're Therian. Just don't count on me to join you in this. I have no stakes."
(Pachua)

The crowd would falter and Revan would stand against his next opponent, a drakanite with devouring winds. The two would take to one another like magnets, though there would be little dipping in and out for a moment of reprieve as Pachua's winds would continue to pull Revan into every punch and blow.

Taking them in stride, the fireblooded would root himself in the ground to feed his circuits with the natural mana around them. It was kindling to his flame as he sought to smother his opponent in an azure haze of fist and foot.

Revan would give it all, even driving his pegleg into the man's gut, but Rinn's blessing would flare within his chest, was it her spirit forsaking him for poisoning their father? Or was it the dragon's fire steering him to the path he belonged?

Eventually Revan would be lowered in statured and kicked to the ground, the helm rolling from his head. Revan would lay there as a decree was made, but he would only spit and laugh in response.

"Who are you? The Chronicler?"

He would pick himself from the ground, golden hues gazing around as he slowly watched as the demon that policed the the mountainside would squash the small crusade, his own excommunication shouted and his father raised to sainthood, he would only shake his head and think back to one word his wife uttered when he tried to defend his family to her.

Madness.

"You can make whatever claims you want, the true Fireblooded know who's words hold value, and they know which flame to follow."

He spoke calmly as he took a deep breath in, no longer did he inhale the stuffy air of blood, sweat and rust, and he could feel an odd clarity to him for once. Pachua tried to act the more merciful soul by letting him walk the streets of Theria disgraced, but Revan knew better than that.

"I will leave Theria stripped of my name, but I will lead those that know the true way. We will fight to reclaim Theria in it's entirety, and I assure you, the dragons will be on our side when Garljing razes Theria again."

A glance once again to the helm, it was a relic and a testament of their faith- yet what was once given to him would now have to be earned. Turning, Revan would leave the Arena, disowned, and disgraced from Theria. Yet his ambition burned brighter than ever, his resolved tempered through the heat of his fellow Therian's coming together to make a difference.
(Revan Task)

The Dragonlord warrior is dragged along by the Archon.

When a simple question leaves his lips, as to what exactly would be happening to him, there's but a single remark.

"That depends on your worth, warrior."

"Now, observe."

The Archon rises to his full might- the sweeping aura of death permeates across the area, and the snake-eyes are filled with killer intent that could be placed upon anybody else who steps forth.


"Hear me, supporters of Myllenoris. Spineless cowards, parasites and useless worms."

"This place has been the hallmark of the freedom. Your elders preserved your own identity, only ever overshadowed by the repugnant few that would rather remain in stagnating peace - pointless, without a future."

"But you, poisoned with lies, would rather spit upon all that has been given to you? The opportunity toevolve, to be greater, to make history with your actions?"


The Damned mark their presence. From the gates of Helheim that were conjured with stolen essence that still beats within the crystal of Lady Erie's Greed, this place could very well become the grave to more people than expected.

Positioned in the air, floating and suspended in levitation, his voice booms further.


"This is your last chance."

"Repent, and abandon the man that has led you astray."

"Or be slaughtered like the cattle you've become."

(Morok)

Barrachan observed the situation closely as it continued to unfold. Revan Task defeated by the Chronicler who would now claim his earned right at the head of the Fireblooded. A low snarl left from his nostrils as the elixir mended his flesh back whole. There were wounds upon him beyond its might, but the most imperative injuries were now gone. Shed of the weakness that had been placed upon him.

To see Demons so eagerly insert themselves into the politics of the Mountain, and to see them interject on the rights of a Dragonlord crippled his mentality of his homeland. Freedom was one thing, but these mercenaries and free men were taught once before. Drakanites were here in mass not from birth, but to ensure things did not repeat as they had in the past.

"You make these claims towards one who does as the Dragons decreed while you stand there acting great and strong." A sigh left his lips as rage slowly bubbled to the surface. "Theria does not belong to men, Drakanites, warlords, Dragonlords, or Demons!" He voices towards Morok and Pachua both.

Barrachan only narrows his eyes further onto the Demon before him. There was opportunity in this moment, yes? He sought this demon for months for their thievery and yet... The situation was not one that could reward his desire. "You have earned what you gained thus far. Dragonlord Zion lies defeated, Revan Task pushed back."


The young Dragonlord approached Morok and looked to Pachua. "If you would claim any dominion within Theria you will do so as it has always been known. Myllenoris and their ilk make claims but those claims mean nothing here. The demands of the Dragons are the word of God, however.

So make it clear, make it known now.

Do you dare claim your word greater than the Dragons?"

(Barrachan Vatoris)

"I'm going to remind you all, from the mouth of Thorgil and from the mouth of Saint Vartuul…"

His eyes came to a simple close and his hands met to his backside...

"When Thogril asked Garljing, what is good and what is evil, he only replied with one thing, 'There is only Desire and Restraint. Selfishness is seen as sin, but this is wrong, It's your kind's nature to want. The angeles will tell you to be merciful, be good. Shackle and limit yourself, when a man is only as great as his ambition."

With his eyes opening, he would take on the helm and slide it on, only letting a smile come from behind his voice.

"I am not good or bad. I'm not righteous, or wicked. I'm Pachua DRAKOS, the Patriarch of Fireblooded Order of the Pyrelight Citadel."

"I won, because this is what Garljing wanted. I won, because I have bested the three that came upon my face."

"I won, because I do not go to sneak poison into food and drinks like cowards -- but won because my desires and my ambitions triumphed over everyone that stood there."

"So, you're right. It's not in charge by a man, human, or drakanite, but by the righteous choices of the Dragons. Nothing more, nothing less."

Then, that was when his hands came to close upon his chest.

"Revan, you and your family or exiled. Anguisa and Barrachan, you too, are exiled."

"If I see you here, I will kill you by myself, personally. I will make sure that your bodies will be used to praise Garljing when we do our walk up to the great north."

"Though, I am fair. If you bow right now in front of me, swear yourself to Garljing, I will allow you to come back, to try again."

"Otherwise?"

He simply tilts his head over to Morok before turning towardsthe weakened Task.

"Do as you want."
(Pachua)

Would he challenge them, even now?

The fact that Barrachan dares approach closer draws an impossibly wide smile upon the face of the Serpent. He's been waiting for this. For so long, he's been waiting to see what would Barrachan do in the face of all that has happened. And now, when he arrives..

"You heard your newly appointed leader, Barrachan. The Dragons want humanity to evolve - to pursue their ambition, to ensure that they become something more than just snivelling cowards laid upon the feet of Teraphim."

"As do I."

Yet, the Archon confidently floats towards Barrachan. He knows exactly why he's here. He knows why exactly he chose to confront Morok, of all people- or demons- that could be present out there.

"But you're here for a different reason, are you not, Barrachan?"

"She calls for you.." 'Veronica'. The word echoes on the back of Barrachan's mind, spoken with telepathy of a Demon.

"She misses you."

"And her heart aches for you... or would you rather abandon her, just like Myllenoris had? Once, I already offered their High Lord to free her - to entertain me with aspect of bravery, and whether he's defeated or he wins, she goes free."

"Do you know what they did, Barrachan?"

"They left her to rot - and fought me anyway. Even with her freedom given to them on a silver plater.. they don't care."



Do you feel the eyes of power look upon you?
Do you feel them stare into your soul?
Even now, as the Archon inches closer..



"But I do."

Lies, or truth? This is up to the drakanite to discern; this is for him to decide whether it holds any merit or not; and yet, his hands steadily reach out, settling upon the face of the drakanite when he comes closer.

They touch upon his features, the snake-eyes staring into Barrachan's gaze.

"Decide, then, Barrachan.."

"Will you abandon her too?"

"Will you oppose this need for evolution, to oppose stagnation - and leave her behind to rot?"
(Morok)

As they spoke, he could feel the pathway opening up before him; The path to Vanaheim. Anyone in their right mind would have surely taken note of the many defeats at the hands of the powerhouses before him, but Barrachan only heard those bold words from their mouths.

He threw his hand to the side and showed an expression of disgust towards Pachua. Had this Drakanite not defended the fact that Dun was wounded? Yet now he took pride in defeating the wounded Dragonlord. It was a disgusting double-standard before the eyes of the Drakanite.

Just before he prepared to speak it hit....

Morok let it be known that it was in fact him who stole her away.

Slowly those Viridian eyes turned to look upon the hovering Demon before him. The demon taunted him freely and happily to point out why the Dragonlord had made his presence clear. A smirk appeared upon his face. "Do not presume to speak for them. Men, and those with the hearts of Men." The large wings flap once again as he takes to the air.

He would look this demon in the eyes, not look up to face something that would steal from his treasury. The spark was made and with it came large amount of mana pouring out of Barrachan's spinal chord. The Twelve Labors of the fallen hero, Alkaio, would be conjured with all their might to give Barrachan access to his original power if only briefly.

"Those who once in my eyes were true Dragons, reveal their colors today. A boy who reaches only for glory as he sees Desire further than he sees his restraint. An old man who speaks with the weakness of age rather than the fire born from the first moments. What are injures, what are poisons, what armies, if not further tests!?" He yelled to the Demon before glancing to Dun.

"Silence now Elder. You overstep. Your boy was beaten in an Honor Duel he accepted and I am Dragonlord because of it. Do not proclaim that an injury makes a battle unjust. These are the words of man, not the words of a Dragon! When your scales break you breath GREATER FIRE!!" Barrachan makes clear to Dun Task. He had spoken enough in regards to politics though.

Crimson scales covered his body as the many runes ignited to life. The attire of the giants of their second in command would make sure he carried his colors now. That rage did not stop however, over and over they continuously spat on the ideals of Ryujin. To see Garljing alone as the sole ruler of all Theria. He was a truly mighty Dragon and deserving of much more, but to Barrachan he was but a Dragon that had been wronged. He would see it done right, but this was not the way.....

To avenge the Fallen son of Garljing, and to break those who won the War of the Dragon with the aid of demonkin…. It was pathetic and weak. No Dragon stood with demons and claimed to be a Dragon.

"Step before me then, each of you who would challenge this Dragonlord. You will not remove me from my mountain alive. You will destroy me and send me to Vanaheim, or be destroyed." He makes clear as the Darkness invades his schlera directly blackening it.

Golden ripples formed in the sky as he opened his gateway towards the star Uner's influence. Letting its innovation guide him further. Numerous weapons of steel design embraced by cosmic light would exit from the ripples as the Chains of Oppression formed on his side. "Usurp my title the right way, not because you think Fairness means shit! Come!!!"
(Barrachan Vatoris)

"Dragonlord?"

This entire situation had blown far past what it should've been. Overthrowing authority was a difficult task, but after failing multiple times how would one keep persisting. The moment had passed, momentum was swinging greatly in Dun's favor and those who opposed him had been beaten time and time again.

It was time to wrap this all up.

The panther stepped forward as the Drakanite issued a challenge, one that wouldn't go without a response.

"Personally, all of these titles are too much. Though I do believe it's time for you to be thrown off this mountain, you've lost.

Only imbeciles don't know when to retreat. Staying will only result in your own destruction.

But maybe you have to learn that."

Jaeger's occultic presence expanded, focusing on Barrachan in an attempt to make the self-proclaimed Dragonlord back down. There wasn't a purpose to to this battle but Jaeger would give it one if need be. Their revolution had been halted.

What was the purpose in continuing? Why did humans feel the need to keep crashing into an unbreakable wall? It all didn't make too much sense, but then again Jaeger wasn't human.

One of them would have to learn, and Jaeger's lesson was fully prepared.
(Jaeger)

How unfortunate.

To see Barrachan become this lost.. but would he really abandon Veronica behind in such manner? Of all things, this terribly disappoints the Archon - to the point that he could not help but feel as if this was an utterly pathetic show of the bond being broken.

"Ahahahaha.."

"I do not speak for you Barrachan. You've already spoken for yourself."

"You would rather leave her behind to rot. I'll make sure to let her know."

But as much as the Archon stares with languid, unimpressed eyes upon the display of might that Barrachan decided to put up, the shadows deepen in preparation of what's to come; they extend, to serve as a necessary tool for the Archon once more..

Until..
Jaeger challenges Barrachan?

"..Oh?"

"It appears you'll have to go through my kin first. Perhaps, I won't even have to hear your incessant whining anymore."

The Archon floats about, his gaze falling onto Jaeger.

"If you wish to take the drakanite, then step forth."
(Morok)

[THE FIGHT HAPPENS BETWEEN JAEGER AND BARRACHAN]
[JAEGER EMERGES VICTORIOUS]
[THE COUP FINALLY ENDS]

The Archon achieved what he wanted.

And it was the fight between Pachua and Revan - one to end with the victory of the drakanite, no less. Isn't it great when all of the pieces fall after one another in the right order? When it all aligns in exactly the way that he wanted..

At times, whenever he loses himself to this chaos, he often finds luck to be on his side.

Is it not the testament of such, with their victory here? For now, the Serpentine Archon yanks Zion away- his own captive in this mess.

"Good."

He's satisfied with the outcome, leaving the premise; surely, some others may seek him out later, for one purpose or another..

But that's a story for another time.
(Morok)