9/2 I Have Found My Wings

(For context, the fight emotes were a 5 round between Vallahaz and Garrick. Vallahaz won the first two, Garrick took the next three and won the match.)
Vallahaz stares for the longest time. As Karma fell back into the snow, the Kaor bares his fangs and roars back at the Aghinstine. "You had ages to admit your weakness and bow down to me. You did naught but laugh and cackle."

Perhaps if Vallahaz didn't have his back ripped to shreds in Gehenna by Seishi, perhaps he'd have laughed and entertained this idea of peaceful subjugation and utter domination through forcing Karma to his knees. Today is a bad day to be an enemy of Vallahaz. Today is a bad day to be Vallahaz.

"Run, my next meal. Run before I catch you."

Flames explode from Vallahaz' body and continue to rise, rise, rise into the air. Mana is burned at an accelerated rate as everything he could feel right now becomes one polarizing emotion.

Overwhelming, blistering fury.

Attacks are launched in a sickening frenzy with full, complete intent to slaughter Karma and spill his guts to the snow.
(Vallahaz)
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 Vallahaz took in deep breaths, trying his hardest to contain the fury that sat just below the surface. But nothing works. Nothing is helping him quit the adamant pursuit of the Aghinstine. Nothing slows Vallahaz down.

Not even himself. Not even the restraint he wanted to show in attempt to play with his food. No. The pain that pulses on his back reminds him every second whether fight or none that there is failure upon the Kaor. There is absolutely nothing that will stop or halt this infernal spree of ravenous mutilation. And so flame blossoms all across Vallahaz's body time and time again, spreading across his form like familiar jets.

Streamlined force that continues to grow until Vallahaz is nothing but a blur in the snow. The massive pit fiend moved like the wind - Graceful and agonizingly potent. And finally, a colossal impact breaks Karma's defenses and sends the magi unconscious into the ground. It is only after that does Vallahaz stomp forward now and gleam down at the Aghinstine, licking his lips.

"YOU CAME TO ME - VALLAHAZ DALMEROTH - WITH INTENT TO APOLOGIZE?! I REFUSE! I REFUSE IT ALL. YOU ARE SCUM, BELOW ME, YOU ARE LESS THAN THE MEALS I GORGE UPON."

And as the Kaor screamed his bloody head off, continued to shake and convulse with trace amounts of sheer agitation - His flaming sword is brought down right into Karma's head, splitting the human's skull in half and effectively killing him in an instant.

"I will not even devour you - You are worth less than that. The world will forget you, Karma Aghinstine. A fool turned into scavenger food. Those that continue to resist my demands to bow, those that will not give in to subjugation and control are less than the dirt I walk upon."
(Vallahaz)
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Karma thought by him to run away, meant to take his gifts back since the way he was yelling at him made him feel like he didn't want it. Karma was sitting in a dark place.. what was this? Karma seemed to be waiting for his death against his rival. Their rivalry was very odd since one was way stronger then the other. But Karma realized that once he is finally beaten. Souls.. laughing souls .. a black hand pointing at him. Everyone was laughing at him .. he held his head just wanting to die. He held it tight closing his eyes. waiting for his death and shouted in this black world.

" Kill me! ...Kill me! "

The young unconscious boy said. it was pitch black.he was worming around trying to figure out why the damn demon didn't end him the boy died that second. .. everything was a joke. He died that instant. He remembered when he promised Sors.. hell be worth his time one day.. How could he let himdown? He wondered.
(Karma Aghinstine)
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Garrick would steadily pace down the path from the tower of chaos with a steady puff of his ragged cigarette, clacking his jagged rows of teeth together as with each molten step of his black sabatons the snow would leave a trail of flowing slush and steam behind his person. The drake's molten eyes would trail upon the scene at hand, the ruthless brutality of the fiery beast with grand ambitions as he gave Karma the biggest headache he was ever like to experience.

A wide, sharp toothed smile would spread across the cracked scaled smith's draconic visage, the crackling flame in his eyes burning with amusement and interest in equals fold. Now this was a demon that acted upon their impulses, followed through with their vendettas as so many stagnant worms of the island failed to. Whispers of discontent, mindless belly aching, all mere fodder for the rot that plagued the land.

But this heir of Ipos? They were going places. The fire burned strong within them.

Clapping his emerald, occultically spiderwebbed scaled palms together in a melodic cacophony of applaus, the fire drakan would breathe forth a gust of celebratory flame for the demon's wanton slaughter, a thorough bout of cheer and applause for a good evening of high tier ultra violence. This was the work of an ash maker, of that there was no doubt.

"Now that's what I'm talking about! A warrior that actually solves their problems, more than just idle bickering and cowardly whispers. The flames guide you well Vallahaz, your blood boils pure. This path you walk down of righteous ash is a glorious one indeed!"


(Garrick)
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 The Greatest Headache. No. Vallahaz would disagree with Garrick on this one thing. The Greatest Headache was living in a world with Karma Aghinstine still breathing. The Kaor turns now and shoves his massive clawed hand right through Karma's body, tearing his satchel with his belongings off of him and throwing it over to Garrick to salvage and take whatever the Kaor did not want. As things are picked up and slowly gathered, Vallahaz just begins to laugh.

The Kaor had been silent up until this point, but after slaughtering Karma he begins to cackle. Wildly, Vallahaz brings a hand to his chest and yells out with joy permeating his every inch. "Finally! That defiant idiot is nothing more than the earth's fertilizer now. After everything.. There is no greater feeling than this."

Vallahaz lowers himself down now and starts to catch his breath.

"Luck has smiled on me.. Today.. Today is a wonderful day, Garrick." Vallahaz raises a foot into the air and slams it down onto the Aghinstine's body over and over again until he was naught but pulp below his stepo.

"Now then.. I require your time."
(Vallahaz)
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 Helos Fengari says, "-Huh, that's uhh... Yeah that's one smashed corpse."
The teenager let out a small yawn, as he floated out of the tower, and down towards the lower part of the mountain, where he spots Garrick floating about watching something. Helos slowly shifted his head to see what exactly the older Drakanite was staring at, only for him to spot Vallahaz stomping on something.

What that was, he couldn't tell. Not yet anyways, so the teenager simply floats closer until he arrives at Garrick's side. From there he could see the full scope of the scene. A corpse, if you could even call it that anymore, at this point it was just chunks of flesh scattered throughout the fields.

Helos tilted his head to the side, as he glanced over at Garrick, before shifting his attention back towards the Kaor. "So, what idiot pissed you off? Oh, and if said idiot harmed ya', I can offer some medical assistance."

A nod is given, as his eyes darted across the bloodied snow. "...I'm gonna need to clean the fields once you two are finished here. Either that, or I'll have someone else do it." After that, Helos simply shrugged.
(Helos Fengari)
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 Garrick would cackle with amused laughter as he continued to clap his cracked scaled palms together in jolly vigor, flashing his sharp toothed grin as his molten eyes ignited with fiery fervor. Nodding steadily to good Vallahaz and his ultra violent efforts, the drake would take a steady tug from his raggedy cigarette with a light clack of his jagged rows of teeth in thorough approval.

This was as the island should be, after all.

"Scythe guy was a real pain in my ass, not gonna lie. Gave me a headache askin' twenty questions and trying to get deets from me like I was part'a some spooky shadow council. I mean, maybe a little, but not anythin' I was offering to some loose lipped dickbag using a farming tool as a weapon. That'd be real cheesy."

Crossing his bulky smith arms over the navy cotton of his engineer's coat, the fire drakan would nod firmly in approval to the demon's efforts and assent to his inquiry, flashing his jagged grin once more without another thought.

"Damn straight it is. Another nuisance made into ash, and another notch on the glorious inferno to come. Now, my time is yours. And of course, this is Helos, another spry lad with a chaotic spirit and a good head on his shoulders."

(Garrick)
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 Vallahaz is left bleeding from his back, but otherwise it seemed like he was spotless from the battle itself. He was anything but wounded, but there is this visible exhaustion across the demon's form and person. Garrick had seen Vallahaz fight over and over again, and the style he had brought himself to use was anything but kind on his mana reserves. And so with the slaughtered Aghinstine in the dirt, he turns and replies to them in the order that they'd spoken up.

"There was a massive duel in Gehenna a few days ago. Several of the hungry, avaricious bastards wanted to jump me. I got myself into a battle with Seishi Oshikawa, and after defeating me he carved his initials into my back." When Vallahaz had spoken the name that came alongside his wound, there is a loud hiss that follows sharply into the air.

That name is said with palpable hatred. Feasible and real disgust.

".. His initials have been carved into the base of my spine - Movement is difficult, very difficult." Eyes look over Helos for a time. "Karma has been a pain in my side for far, far too long now. Trying to belittle me and domesticate me as a pet, insulting and disrespecting me. The messy corpse in the field is the Aghinstine's."

And so Vallahaz walks to Garrick now, staring at him for the longest time as he pushes his hilt forward.

"I need training. As things are right now, I'm still incapable of winning the fights that matter to me. My fighting style drains and devours too much mana. As a flaming Drakanite and fellow swordsman.. I want you to show me how you incorporate your flames with your slashes.. In hopes we can benefit and train off of one another."
(Vallahaz)
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The teenager placed his hands in his jacket pockets, as he eyed the Kaor, slowly nodding his head as he listened to the beast speak. It seems like the big guy had managed to aggravate a fair amount of people back in Gehenna, which was rather interesting.

Though what interested him more, was this 'Seishi Oshikawa' carving their initials into Vallahaz's back. "Hm... Well if you want, I can try and figure out how to sort out that whole initial thing. I'm sure I can think of something to get ride of em."

Though at the mention of Karma? The Fengari would tilt his head back as he bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Aye, that's the one James fucker's brother yeah? A couple of the people up here were plottin' to kill 'em anyways. Ya' saved us a bunch of effort."

The teen removed a hand from his pocket to flash the Kaor a thumbs up, before placing said hand back into his pocket. "Thank ya'."

From there, the Fengari would plop himself down onto the ground, his grey eyes darting from Vallahaz, and over towards Garrick. It seems the two of them would be engaging in some manly combat. Which would be rather fun to watch.

Though his gaze would shift over to the last person in the line. Sors Ultovex's cousin. Helos' removed a hand from his pocket, and pointed up to the north, towards the tower's location.

"Last I saw, Lord Ultovex was havin' a chat with Melody in the outpost, I assume he's still in there, but ya' never know."
(Helos Fengari)
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Helos Fengari says, "Off he goes."
 Garrick would listen intently to fiery warrior demon with a steady clack of his jagged teeth, dragging lightly at his raggedy cigarette with an idle hum as he mulled over the kaor swordsman's words, his sharp toothed grin spreading wider and wider upon his draconic visage as he heard more and more of Vallahaz's inquiries. The drake knew more than well of the burning hatred that boiled from belittlers, from those that would look down upon those of the flame whose pride was far worthier than their lesser beings.

It was a familiar sense, with certainty.

"Matching blades with a demon of flame to sharpen our talons until they gleam with molten heat? I can think of few things more draconic or worthy. As it happens, I'm in a similar predicament of sorts. Most drakan have the ability to...manifest wings, horns, the aesthetic of their patron dragon. It's a blessing from the gods, this....half shift."

The cracked scale smith would spit a glob of molten spit to the snow beneath his feet, the magma searing the snow into slush and steam as he gritted his teeth with an idle bulge upon his forehead.

"But I've never been capable of such. Whatever dogma I swallowed, what prayers I mumbled, the flames of Ryujin never allowed me to achieve so much as a slightly sharper nub. And so I have abandoned his stagnancy, the weakness of the divine dragons. I spite them, and cast off their shackles upon my form. A dragon bends to no god. I will embrace the flames of hatred, and find my own wings in the fires of vengeance."

Dredging his black blade steadily from the scorched leather rungs upon the back of his navy cotton engineer's coat, the fire drakan would clasp the handle between the emerald, spider webbed scales of his palms with a toothy smile, flourishing the blade briefly before planting it into the snow as the nyeshk glowed hot with molten heat, flame condensed into the very metal that bore it until even the midnight metal shimmered with a super heated, orange gold flare of blistering heat.

"I internalized the flames, walked the path of magma. The flames of hatred guide me, and I have never seen so clear as when my eyes saw only fire. Vallahaz, it would be an honor to aid in your growth in fencing, swordsmanship, and mastery of the flame. I suspect you shall aid me too in achieving my own wings, my own evolution in spite of the false dragon gods. And good Helos here is a fiery swordsman as well, a pupil of sorts. The three of us shall be master swordsman with certainty."


(Garrick)
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Pestilence asks, "...My, what do we have here?"
"The mark itself has done some damage to my spine, though it's nothing fatal. It is a mark of disgust, however. I'm going to ensure he regrets his decision today." And so the large fist of the demon curls inwards, finger by finger until he's clenching that grip tighter than ever. The injury looked dangerous, enough to harm Vallahaz' fighting potential but not enough to prove detrimental in ruinous ways.

"I don't typically slaughter with such bliss - But that one had so much coming for him." Vallahaz takes his shackled, broken hilt and closes the distance between he and Garrick. Listening inwards after he makes his head turn towards Garrick.

"You said you've marked your own progress with the Flames of Hatred? Go on. I'd like to hear and understand this emotional build up. All magic is derived from mana, and all mana converted from emotions below the surface."

Vallahaz takes a deep breath and allows wind to rotate around jets of fire upon his body - Now he's swarming with controlled, potent blasts of fury. "Very well then, step forward and point your blade to me when you are ready Garrick. The two of us can go nowhere without mastery of ourselves and the flames around us."

The burning and taxing effect from the fighting style begins to show almost as soon as Vallahaz took it upon himself, though it is a small price to pay for unfettered speed and power.

".. Explain your style, and I'll happily explain mine."

For Tih Noctem? He walks in and sees a muddled, squashed corpse behind Vallahaz. The flaming Kaor's feet were covered in brain matter, blood, and bone bits.
(Vallahaz)
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 "...Who, was it."

Pestilence's words were few, yet their voice carried a resounding shudder that caused the very snow beneath the surrounding individual's feet. Gleaming red eyes stare down in disapproval as it stares towards that muddled corpse-- And soonafter, falling upon Vallahaz.

It waits for its answer.
(Pestilence)
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 Garrick would nod as he crunched forth with idle steps of his molten black sabatons against the frigid expanse of the snowfield. Each pace forward was followed by slush and steam as the elements bended to the intense heat of the fire drakan's magma. Drips of glowing hot fluid steadily fell from the cracks that lined the smith's scales and form, scorching the slush beneath him with sizzling drops as he paced with a stout nod.

"Fire is passion. Earth is stubborn will. The might of magma, of the molten heat of volcanic fissures, is the crossroads of an immovable object and an unstoppable force. Of unyielding determination in the face of any odds, no matter how impossible. The intensity of one's flames is oft bound to the strength of what one feels. Some...pitiful slaves take this to mean kindness, the warmth of a humble hearth. Worthy of little less than roasting a marshmallow."

Stabbing his black blade into the ground, molten cracks would spread about the snowfield with glowing intensity, bubbling lava trailing out and scorching the powdery snow in a flurry of combustive steam before the steady rise and cool air would harden it into rock.

"But such emotions are WEAK. Barely worth an ember. The greater the hatred one bares, the stronger one's flames! The more intense the fire you can draw from your bosom with determined spite. This, I found, was the first step to my advancement. I learned to hate everything on this island. To bare a desire to see it all turned to ash for his rotten stagnation....and my flames have never coiled quite so bright."

Flourishing his greatsword with a nod as he gave good Tih a two clawed salute with his molten eyes, the drake would flick his vision between the pair with a steady nod as he puffed away idly on his ragged cigarette with a clack of his teeth.

"Once you have that...heat, you can internalize it into your blade. Metal is but a conduit, some weaker than others. The greatest blades do not yield to even the most intense flames, and so absorb their molten fury into themselves. Each gouging slash can scourge, blacken, and bisect your enemies in the same biting touch. Each stab can not only impale, but cauterize from the inside to ensure no healing is possible. The fire burns hottest when it is...focused upon a single point. A super heated talon of ultra violence."


(Garrick)
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 ".. So you're a magma magi, interesting.." Flames coil up around Vallahaz in response, eyes narrowing and watching as every inch of his scales and skin were coated in that steaming, burning fluid. A flaming tongue reaches out, licking across jagged fangs as he crouches some and extends his his arm forward to keep that hilt primed for Garrick.

"If flames are a passionate magic, you fuel yours off of every drip of hate?" He smiles ear to ear, having missed an idea like this prior. It made sense why his flames would sear and roar like they did - Vallahaz was acting on impulse and feeling, but leaving every inch of flaming mana to derive itself from his hatred for the way things were?

.. Well. That might just be the catalyst he was missing. The snow begins to pick up and rise all around Vallahaz as smaller tornadoes pick up and spin erratically around the icy valley.

Closing his eyes momentarily, the disgust and churning feeling he felt over his defeat in Gehenna is all that fills his mind - And the emotions that moment elicited?

.. Are absolutely the gasoline, gunpowder and oil to an already screaming inferno. Vallahaz becomes the embodiment of speed and destruction as slow steps are taken forward. "Yes.. Yes! YES! I understand now. This makes so much sense. Cut everything away, focus on the malice. The disgust."

And so, when wind and fire combine in perfect unison across Vallahaz' body, the Kaor leaps forward with full intent to slam that hilt into Garrick's guard - Into his body.

"My personal style resolves around the speed of wind - The potency of flame. Tornadoes are perfect conduits and twisting turbines waiting for a power source. Filling every last twister tothe brim in sweltering flames leaves so much room to adjust and move. A single tornado can be the result of blurred movement. A single jet of this flame can be the difference between life and death when dodging spells."

And so those streams of flame do appear, several of them expelling off of Vallahaz' back when he crashed into Garrick and sought to bury him in a crater below the initial impact.

"At the cost of endless amounts of mana.. My motion is utterly under my control. For so long we had the technique, Garrick - But we never had the feeling. The source of where to draw from."

Vallahaz empowers the next several blows with that bright, simply overwhelming fiery force.

"I will ensure those who have wronged me pay in blood or broken wills."

It was time to clash blades with Garrick.
(Vallahaz)
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 Pestilence asks, "...One dares to ignore us?"
 Helos Fengari says, "...It was a man by the name of Karma."
Pestilence says, "Speak, boy. Name this Kaor."
 Helos Fengari says, "I think Garrick said their name was... Vallahaz."
 Yin Invidia says, "I think someone named that accused me of theft."
 Pestilence says, "The assaulter of Chazlus. The wanted."
 Helos Fengari says, "You see all the uhh, blood and chunks of flesh on the field, Yin? "
Helos Fengari says, "That's what's left of Karma."
 Yin Invidia says, "All the wha....."
 Vallahaz found himself suffused with power when Garrick had given him the in to bring out all of his mana. The conduit to all the endless amounts of power left within not just the Kaor's fighting style, but the Kaor's very magic at its core.

Slamming into Garrick over and over again, the older Drakan was thrown across snow and slammed into walls while Vallahaz never slowed down for a second. Several streams of flame appear behind him and thrust him forward. Leaping in and out of blades flying towards his massive body, it seemed like Vallahaz had jet boots at times. Jets keep him floaty, they keep him fast.

They keep him obscenely powerful.

They part at once, distance growing while eyes narrow and a malefic smile appears.

"Yes.. YES. THIS IS WHAT I WAS SEEKING."

Vallahaz, for lack of better words, became an untouchable titan in that firstlength of the fight.
(Vallahaz)
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 Garrick would bark out in jolly, draconic laughter as he gave into the joy of glorious melee combat, dancing across the snowfield with clanks heavy metal and brutal smashes of kinetic force between the magma drake and fire demon in a true contest of good, manly fun. Each concussive blow from Vallahaz brought the sharp toothed grin wider and wider upon the drake swordsman's face as he saw the demon drawing from the glorious power of the flames.

He was a quick learner. The spawn of Ipos would go far, of that there was no doubt.

Cracked scales slammed repeatedly by the concussive force of the demon's fiery might, the black plated drake would steadily have his stamina worn down between bouts of adrenaline fueled laughter and spits of molten bile, spit, and blood. Each blow upon the fire drakan's person, each slash and spurt of life ichor, seemed not to dismay the warrior.

No, it seemed to make him feel that much more alive. There was no thing more satisfying than a true crossing of blades, a worthy battle! Glorious combat!

Falling to one knee briefly, the fire drakan would take a deep puff from his raggedy cigarette before plunging his black blade into the snow, slush and steam gathering about its tip as he forced himself back up to footing with a cackle of excitement.

"EXACTLY SO! THE SONG OF BLADES AND FIRE RINGS LOUD THIS DAY. LET US CONTINUE, BAHAHAHAHA! "

(Garrick)
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 Pestilence says, "The two yell, far too much. It's quite amusing."
 Helos Fengari says, "Aye, that was rather fun to watch."
 The lingering force continues to remain. It was as if Vallahaz had reached some kind of pseudo-evolution in just how much power was exuding and billowing from his form. Vallahaz lurches inwards and grabs Garrick's blade with his teeth, grinding down on it as wide and adrenaline rich eyes stared him down. It was then when tornadoes of flame explode all around Vallahaz as he lifts the two of them into the air and proceeds to body slam Garrick into the floor, the force of the thrusters reversing from lifting them up - To forcing them down.

A meteoric crater is left in the impact zone, Vallahaz now leaping back as mana continued to flourish and cascade out as plentiful as blood might. The winds are in his favor. Absolutely so, this new level of reach had brought him closer. So much further from the bottom of the hill he once crawled upon.

"More. Do not stop swinging your blade. Do not make this easy for me."

The Kaor himself had relegated himself to fighting as bestial and as fluently as any monster previous. He was fighting with all of the intensity of Ifrit himself.

"If I can reach this peak, so. Can. You."

The final stretch of their battle. This was it.
(Vallahaz)
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 The flames of the pair would clash with a glorious crescendo as Vallahaz found his footing in the fire. Garrick's jagged toothed grin spread with excitement as their blades met again and again, the heavy clanks of metal and glorious crackling of hellfire sung into the frigid night of chaos mountain. This was the anthem of warriors in truth, the quiet, wordless song of evolution and manly vigor.

The path of glory. The son of the archon that bore the name claimed its mantle well. He would rise like a phoenix and burn this island to ash. The drake was certain of it.

Blade bitten down upon by Vallahaz's jagged teeth, the fire drakan was firmly cratered by the brute grappling strength of the demon, body slammed into a molten crater with a cough of glowing ichor and a sharp toothed spread of his draconic grin. The wind had briefly been knocked from his lungs, but even in this state the adrenaline continued to pump and make the swordsman feel...alive.

Plunging his black blade once more into the snow, the fire drakan would cackle with excitement as he forced himself back to his feet. The snow upon the black scales of his plate would turn to a scorching mist as his molten eyes, briefly dazed, once more focused upon Vallahaz with flaming intensity as he clasped the handle of his black blade tightly between both of his cracked palms.

This was exactly what Garrick had required. Finally a worthy companion to sharpen his talons upon. The flames of hatred would swallow this island in their molten passage.

"EXACTLY SO! DO NOT TAKE PITY, DO NOT FALTER. CONTINUE YOUR EVOLUTION VALLAHAZ. BURN BRIGHT, DRAW FROM THE FIRE WITHIN. HOLD TIGHT TO THIS FEELING OF GLORY!"

(Garrick)
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 Burnout. In an instant, it seemed like all of that bravado was lost. Vallahaz had been drawing so much so quickly that all of his mana had been basically spent in the first two clashing attempts made by the duo. Garrick was left to fight the Kaor at his absolute slowest, absolute most sluggish. Vallahaz leaped forward with ignition trails all over his body.

And when that blade is brought down to once more crash into Garrick's shoulder, the Drakan was already ten feet to the right of him. Little by little, muscles start to pain the Kaor. More and more does he begin to feel the tears and splits of fibers all across his form. The mana is slipping between his fingers, and attacks that should be happening at breakneck speaks - Are as slow and sluggish as ever.

Complete and utter burnout, that very same sword Garrick relied on is slammed into the Kaor's body, throwing Vallahaz back and into the snow for a time. The Kaor is utterly silent, trying to regain stamina -Pooling back together whatever mana had been lost by being careless.

The stance wasn't one he could be wasteful with. With all forms of feast or famine, Vallahaz was absolutely..

An all or nothing combatant.
(Vallahaz)
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 Garrick would swerve around the vigorous passage of flames as Vallahaz continued their glorious bout of melee combat, puffing idly at his ragged cigarette as their blades once more clashed with brilliant sparks of heat and concussive force. The drake parked out in hearty laughter as his sharp toothed grin spread wider and wider, the fiery glint in his eyes glowing with steady heat as he pursued the demon with resounding blows.

Yet, the heaviness in the fire demon's movements was not lost upon the drake as he saw the apparent sluggishness, a sense that Vallahaz was not quite at that great peak he'd seized in the beginning of their glorious blade crescendo. Blades crashing together once more with darting flames, a final concussive smash of his heavy, black blade against the kaor's own would be followed by the fire drakan leaping back a bound of several feet, molten lava trailing behind his steps as he briefly flourished his blade with a steady not to the demon.

"Twice as bright, half as long as they say. The intensity of the flames is a double edged sword. The greater the heat you conjure, the more you sap from yourself to fuel the flames of hatred. The more passionate the emotion, the more invested you are in its fuel, the more magnificent the costs and fortune alike. "

Leaning his greatsword upon his shoulder, the drake's molten eyes glanced across the field without the slightest bit of judgement to his demon compatriot, blowing rings of smoke from his raggedy cigarette with a clack of his jagged teeth. This was a warrior's combative struggle after all, a chance for the pair to sharpen their claws in the mountains above the rot of the island.

"Mastering those brief surges of apex flame, the pinnacle of heat, and condensing it in just the right moment, the needle thread of the molten passage. Such is the path to the mastery of the flame. Your potential is clear and boundless, you shall seize it for your own."


(Garrick)
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 He's being played like a damn fool.

For all of the bravado and mighty overwhelming force that the Kaor had come into the fight with, all of it was dashed as Garrick danced around a sluggish sword and was giving him lessons while doing it so. Control, learn to channel it in burst and intervals. Like an engine that needed to be kept from overheating or freezing, Vallahaz was operating on those very same set of principles. The Kaor lurches forward with more speed than before, but cannot bring back that pinnacle of ultimate force he had reached in the beginning of their bout.

Vallahaz had been focusing more on his own fleeting power than he was that hatred from Seishi's carving. And it's that realization that brings him to pause momentarily, panting and snarling as eyes close once more - And the winds around the duo seem to shift and change. Once more do they coil around Vallahaz's arms on command. Once more do flickering embershowl and bite the wind around the Kaor himself.

".. There will be naught but disaster when I reach my zenith, Garrick. You are assisting the greatest monster this continent has ever seen reach the height of legends."

Rise. Rise. Rise. Burn. Burn. Burn. Ignite. Ignite. Ignite.

And once that focus had been tapped into again, when teeth grit tighter than ever and malice spreads across his expression like a wildfire. There is mastery in Vallahaz's boundless step.

Mastery in fluidity. Mastery in.. Flame. He would not make it easy for the Drakan. No longer.
(Vallahaz)
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 The handprint of glowing reika that sat upon the center of the mighty spread of spiderwebbed cracks that lined Garrick's musculature burned with emerald flame as the drake swordsman clashed his black blade with brutal force against the kaor's with ruthless intensity, the molten heat he had internalized seeming to burn with the consistent intensity of magma. A flame compressed and fueled with the stokes of wind and the crucible of his own, cracked scaled body allowed immense strength to be drawn from the source of the flame.

The undying hatred for the scum that polluted this island, the apathetic slaves and yellowed bellied cowards that stunk up the land with their filth. Unworthy even of being ash, a mercy he'd grant them almost out of pity. If he had any left.

"I am a blacksmith, forging weapons is my trade. And you, Vallahaz, shall be a weapon of mass destruction. Your own, of course, wielded by none but your own boundless determination to conquer, scorch, and burn. To refine your talents as I master my own flames and find my wings? I can think of few better uses for the tools at my disposal. A dragon is nothing without their claws."

Flourishing his black blade once more, a sharp toothed, draconic grin would spread across the drakan's face as he gripped the handle tight between the cracked scaled palms of his calloused hands. The kaor had regained their glorious flame, they had found their second wind. This would be the crescendo the drake sought in full.

"Now then, let us sharpen our blades."


(Garrick)
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 The Kaor's shattered hilt is brought back up one last time as the Kaor had felt himself hit that connection with his own hatred. Down below, there is a burning and sinister shimmer of power he can feel bubbling into his veins. Streams of focused flame burst from the back of Vallahaz's arm and hand as his weapon is slammed into the Drakan's chest.

Over and over again, that brutal and quick collision of force would keep the Drakan back from Vallahaz in his assaults. But as time would soon prove, there is still much to learn from the older flame-born. Sharpen their blades? Refine their visions. With cyclones of power rotating about the duo with every clash of power, the seeping of mana is prevalent with just how long the fight had been thus far. In one final collision, Vallahaz's grip slips for the most miniscule of time.

.. But one mistake, one flaw in a fight against two titans would ultimately write the outcome. Vallahaz finds defeat and utter exhaustion, panting and groaning as he tightly clutches onto the hilt in question.

"... I felt it, Garrick. I've felt what I need to tap into, next."

Flames, blades, and obscene amounts of power. The two had traded blows - and with it - understanding. Vallahaz knew what to do in the future.
(Vallahaz)
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 The demon and drake didn't need to waste any more words. The song of singing blades, of crackling flame, was all that needed to be heard as the each resounding crash of brawn and infernal heat caused shockwaves of slush and steam across the snowy fields of the mountain of chaos. Garrick gave into the thrumming adrenaline that pumped into his heart from the handprint of reika, the molten cracks that spread across his body glowing with intense heat as he felt the invisible barrier that had held back his progress finally loosening.

Something he had been missing, at long last nearly at hand. Molten fluid leaked from the spiderwebbed seams that spread all across the drake's form, his eyes glowing with fiery intensity as the two slammed against each other again and again. Each slash drawn across his person, each crunch against his molten scales, the concussive force and glorious heat felt as if it was loosening potential that had been building since the day he had finally embraced the flames of hatred.

Since he had turned his back on Ryujin.

The matching of blades was close as they came, the spawn of Ipos was worthy of the glory bound to that name. Garrick had been asked to aid in his growth, but the demon's flames and passion had brought forth its own sort of evolution in the cracked scaled smith, As the last blow was drawn and the drakan's blade was raised to the frigid winds to allow it to cool from the molten heat that had been condensed, a sense of incredible strength would tingle like a just barely reachable itch in the depths of the drake's back scales.

Something...was beginning to slip.

"That is all there is to it, Vallahaz. Fire is boundless potential, and the world is tinder and fuel to your flames. An endless storm of rage, limitless kindling, and infinite growth as the ashes spread across this rotten land and purify it in the heat of glorious hatred. You will findyour way, and I will help you as you have helped me. My claws have been sharpened this day."

Crossing his cracked scaled arm over the black layered plate of his cuirass, Garrick would bow his nub horned head respectfully to the fire demon as he steadily slung his black blade over the back of his navy cotton coat.

"You have my thanks."


(Garrick)
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Garrick marched aimlessly as he was drawn through the snowy heights of the mountain by instinct alone, head throbbing as glowing drips of blood plopped down from his arms and neck upon the powdery frost. Steam rose with each foot step as his wounds from the brutal melee with Vallahaz were kissed by the frigid gusts atop the northen heights, and the fire drakan frankly could not see where he was going at the moment.

But he could feel it. The same as the agonizing itch that had spread through his back like a wildfire. The call to the heat.

Before long, the slush beneath the glowing hot, black sabatons of the cracked scaled smith would dissipate into volcanic rock, the familiar expanse of the volcano where Garrick had found purpose and lost it in a few months time. Pangs of throbbing pain would wrack through his skull as boiling blood continued to drip from his wounds, leaking fluid from the cracks that lined his scales as his focus was robbed. It felt as if he was about to shatter at the seams, explode into a vengeful conflagration. As if after years of building anger, he had at last reached his limit.

In teaching Vallahaz the fury of the flame, in demonstrating and defeating the demon of fire with his own wrath, the drake had finally surpassed his tolerance. He could no longer quench his rage.

Blinking steadily with his glinting, amber motes about his surroundings, Garrick would realize that he had arrived in the volcanic spire at the center of the volcano’s expanse. A thin spindle of black rock amongst the ruins of Obsidia, the heat rising with gusts of superheated wind brushing across his face. Another sharp spike of pain would wrack through the drakan’s body as he fell to his knees, an overwhelming surge of heat flushing through his body as sweat began to pour profusely down his brow. His black plate armor felt like a prison in this moment, a crucible for his boiling skin.

Clawing with madness at the seams of his cuirass, tugging with erratic, undextrous movements, Garrick would screech with agonizing pain as yet another pulse of scorching pressure flushed through his body, vision blurring with crackling flame as he bit into his lip and a stream of blood splattered against the obsidian rock, steaming upon the stone with a steady rise of blood vapor and smoke. The drake’s blood was boiling hot, the spiderwebbed cracks that trailed across his scales foaming and glowing from their length. The cuirass would at last be tossed with a heavy clatter to the ground, just in time.

A sickening snapping, cracking sound would emanate from the fire drakan’s form as the scales upon his back shattered, bones jutting from the gaping holes where his backscales once sat as molten liquid begin to drip with glowing, fiery progress down the length of his back. Explosions of kinetic force would erupt as the drakan’s raw muscle tissue was exposed, almost as if being scourged by an invisible whip that was tearing his cracked scales apart piece by piece. Blood would spatter around the smith’s surroundings in a growing puddle, drying and evaporating in a bubbling pool as quickly as it arrived.
Yet, something kept Garrick conscious throughout the agony. A single point of pressure in the center of his mind, an iron grasp of willpower and determination upon the one thing he still held close to his heart. The undying rage and desire for vengeance, to make good on his promise to Lei Jin and surpass his own limits by any means necessary to do it. To bring ash to this rotten land and purify it in the flames of hatred. As each scale would snap and char, the liquid that poured down the drakan’s scourged back would ignite into leaking flames as if oil about an accelerant.

Plunging his black blade into the volcanic rock to hold himself steady, another groan of pain would elicit from the heaving maw of the fire drakan, teeth chattering with insensate sensory overstimulation as the crunch of realigning bone and shattering scales jolted him in place over and over again. The barrage of stimulus upon his form was enough to drive a lesser man mad, but as more and more flames flowed from the fire drakan’s spine and spread into a feasible form, Garrick’s glowing, amber eyes would focus upon the distant horizon of the south. In this period of intensive agony, the sky seemed red and shrouded by ash, and all the drake saw was the flame.

The beautiful flame.

The sound of flapping would jolt the cracked scaled smith to consciousness as the pain didn’t erupt any further, the agony remaining at a steady pace as the drakan at last began to acclimate to the torture. Glancing back, his jaw would drop as his jagged rows of teeth fell in wonder at what he saw. The flames had not dissipated. No, they remained in place and formed into a shape quite familiar to the man that dreamed of becoming a dragon. A sense of relief came with the immense pain, as if his draconic potential had finally been released after three decades of being unable to manifest his blood’s power. He had never been capable of half shifting, after all.

The wings of fire lifted Garrick above the ground as he rose upwards above the obsidian spire of the volcano, his rage filled eyes turning south upon the land he wished to see engulfed in flame. Balling his fist as he gritted his teeth, the steady gust of wind around his unleashed form felt as if cool air upon a wound that had long been covered and allowed to fester. Thin, skeletal bones almost like common kindling wood sat in the center of fiery apparitions, but the organs themselves were made entirely of fire. Each steady flap rose the fire drakan higher above the volcano, and with each moment that he rose he felt that he breathed just a bit freer than ever before.

He had abandoned Ryujin, walked away from the path of love and the divines. But he had finally found his wings.