9/16 It Felt Good to be Bad

When Garrick ascended the volcano's crest, he happens upon a man who has taken his lunch in the shadow of a stone, propped up against it. Sheltered there with a torchlight potion lain into the frame of a lantern, hung from the stone's tip, he has only just finished a simple meal of fish and rice.

Dario shut the box it came in, slid it back into his pack. He must seem an oddity, here- A non-magi in the Agarthan wilderness, mundane island on this extraordinary continent. It is nearly an idyllic scene, the non-magi watching the sky- Countless stars, luminescent bulbs shining bright under the cloudless night's new moon.

Nearly. Garrick interrupts it. Spotting the hulking figure of a man passing in the night, Dario almost jumps, eyes falling to him. By the time he registers the Drakan, he's risen onto his feet, nearly drawn the long dagger the same man had forged for him. He eases some, sighing out in tense relief when the recognition comes.

"Oh... Garrick. S'just you. Don't sneak up on me like that, sheesh! What're you doin' here?"

He eased against the standing stone, hand at his chest. Since the Drakanite's latest changes- That unfettered aggression -even recognizing him did little to quell Dario's budding wariness.
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Garrick passed across the ruinous grass field of the former Invidian manor with an idle drag of his ragged cigarette, clacking his teeth together idly as he mulled over the recent events of the mountain. More blood spilled, more bodies crumpled and thrown to the wind, voices slaughtered and tortured in spite of Gehennan's stagnancy. The drake had grown numb to it, perhaps he'd even begun to enjoy the break in the monotony that such invigored slaughter brought about. Keitaro had once been a brother, a fellow dragon aspirant he'd performed silly dances with for a Qilin.

But he had chosen his path. And Garrick walked another. It was inevitable.

Marching forward with crunching steps of his molten black sabatons against the grassy field, the drake would flick his molten eyes towards the sudden voice before seeing the dagger brandished, swiftly clasping the black greatsword that lay upon the charred leather rungs of his backplate before clutching it tightly between both emerald, cracked scaled palms. Gritting his teeth lightly, he'd glance over the stranger before recognizing it as his former sidekick Dario.

Once he'd worshipped the ground the drakan walked upon, when Garrick still pretended to be a hero. Now? The smith could gauge with ease that Dario was tense, and why not? The impulse for sporadic violence sparked with each pulse of emerald light from his chest, and it wouldn't be the first time the fire drakan had gone too far with the peasant aspirant.

Pointing the blade at Dario with a light clack of his teeth, the drake would puff lightly from his ragged smoke before blowing a series of rings up towards the distant horizon of the lapping tides and sea. His molten eyes sparked with fire as he matched Dario's own.

"It's fresher air here than the stagnant filth in Gehenna. Far less filled with useless people and wastes of space with certainty. Ishould ask the same, what brings you this far north? You spying on something?"
(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The puncture in Dario's gut, though having had years to heal now, warms darkly at the heat in Garrick's eyes. That it had been years dimly registers in the back of his mind, recalling the lost hours spent crumpled on the shore's edge, the dismal task of scrubbing away crusted sand and tending to the gruesome burn.

To look upon Garrick never failed to dredge that memory from the muck he was happy to consign it to. Happy to forget it in hopes of seeing the steadfast mercenary with a dream he'd first met. For all he favored the illusion, the true shape of the man would swallow it whole, never allowed it.

He recoils when the massive blade is leveled at him. Harsh words from a harshened man. Dario's brow knits, having never known suspicion from Garrick, only his anger- Yet he tries to ease, acquiesce enough to comfort the Drakan.

"Spy on somethin'? Nah- I... Do rounds from here to the tribelands- Gather resources, hunt, mine... I visit Levengard sometimes, too."

There is a pause, silence that lingers like a hot wind between them. Having a blade levered at him was enough for Dario to rise off the stone, take several steps into the disturbed earth. Five seconds, and Dario speaks-

"Hey, Garrick, what... What's up with you? You've just been gettin' angrier, more vindictive, n' violent the past few years- I don't get it. Ya didn't used'a be like this; You used'a laugh, n' smile when ya weren't hurtin' people. What happened?"

As much as he tried to yield for the Drakan, he didn't dare reach for his torchlight lantern. His hand, unconsciously, kept glued to the blade at his hip. Dario seemingly could not yield as far as he liked, not even for the Drake- And yet despite that, he strained to speak amiably to him, perhaps reach some semblance of the man he knew,

"You can talk to me, y'know! I like to think we're still *friends*!"
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Dario rests a hand against his chest, drawing closer a step. He speaks, imploring Garrick,

"I've been meanin'a ask, but... I just nevah found the right moment- And now's a good a time as any, that I've got ya alone. It's just us- So anythin' ya say? It's between you n' me, nobody else. You can trust me."
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Garrick glanced down upon Dario with harsh, predatory eyes as the molten flare of his amber motes glimmered steadily in the night. His blade lowered only an inch as the young fisherman began to chatter, an idle gritting of his jagged rows of teeth clicking together idly amongst the delicate, salty sea breeze atop the volcano. The drakan squinted lightly as he the youth allayed his concerns of subterfuge, but the barest degree of paranoia remained urged on by the corruptive influence of reika.

"Levengard, bah. A more disgusting pen of self righteous chickens I've never suffered. A moral laziness and perverted rot possesses that false city upon the hill, it is better off as ash. Resources are understandable at least, the caverns here are rich with ore to fuel the foundries."

As Dario inquired the great question of the hour, the cracked scaled smith would pause as he drew a light drag from his worn cigarette. It wouldbe effortless in truth to lie, to spin a yarn about this or that to justify Garrick's demeanor without betraying the slightest bit of his true intentions for the island. He could play it safe as long as he retained his sugared words, a bit of jolly charisma, a laugh here and there to fill the silence.

An easy mask to wear.

Yet, molten eyes scanning over his former sidekick steadily, the drakan would think to himself that he'd grown quite tired of pretending.

"Anger is a potent fuel, hatred another. The fool you knew was ignorant of the ways of the island, his eyes obfuscated by false light. Violence is the natural order of this land, the only thing that remains pure amongst the stagnation. What "happened" Dario is that I finally began to see things clearly. "

Pacing forward a step, the fire drakan would flourish his blade with a great swing of the heavy nyeshk, a trail of flame following in its wake and spreading across the grassy plain that the pair stood upon. Fire would begin to crackle upon the volcanic, dried grass as the drake puffed steady rings of smoke from his jagged maw, molten eyes held upon Dario as he continued to speak.

"This land is diseased. Plagued by apathy, inaction, false morality. Fake heroes. There's no saving it. Only a good, honest flame will cleanse it of the rot that has accumulated. Only when this island is ash will it finally be clean again."
(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 A fell chill ran along the hairs of Dario's neck. Perhaps it was the heat in Garrick's eyes that had unnerved him- Yet, he had grown used to that. The heat of his words? No, he had grown used to the bite of those, as well.

He listened for what had changed in Garrick, past what he said.

Vitriol. Bile. As all the vile vapors of the volcanic chambers rose, so too did that venom rise from Garrick's gut, spew from the depths of his soul as the choking smoke of his anger. When long tongues of flame scattered across the grassy plateau, he drew back from the suffocating intensity, hardly finding air to breathe while so close to the kindling.

Dario was stunned while he listened to Garrick speak. While the flames greedily devoured their kindling, he watched as the same fire he had once venerated, had looked to as a guide, consumed the magi that spawned it. When did it happen, he wondered? Had Garrick collapsed under his ambition while on his lonesome, had it twisted him, perhaps? When he looked to Garrick past the flame, the emerald light that shone dimly from his chest, the smoldering shell- What was left? A ruined heap? The twisted husk, monument to past greatness?

There are several seconds of silence from Dario. His gaze grows distant at his proclamations- The words promising Garrick's heroic mission when they first met rung in his ears in parallel to his oath to scour Agartha clean of it's 'rot'. To purify it by fire.

When Dario speaks, it is with labored breaths, short of them with the climbing flames. He was being encircled- But with the same conviction he found when turning Mosa from the occult, he speaks now to Garrick. His shell was thick, as was the haze clouding his heart- But he had scythed through the abyssal dark of the water mage's doubts. Perhaps he could pierce the molten tomb of Garrick's soul- And in such an endeavor, there was no room forsoftness or grace, such frivolities scoured by flame.

"...You sound just like the people you're railin' against. I never thought I'd be hearin' those kinds'a claims from you, of all people, Garrick! 'False light'? This is what you call seeing things clearly?!"

His lip stiffens. This was a gamble- To strike at the core of any volcano was to tempt an eruption, but the only solution for poison was to drain it.

"You wanna talk about obfuscation, then let's talk! Cause the only thing obfuscated was the truth- You nevah told me about the people onn'a mountain, about how often ya visited, what you were doin' up there! I didn't wanna believe it, but-"

He clutched a hand in front of him, drew boldly up against the flames,

"-You've got nonn'a that! Ya lie by omission, you lie in demeanor to people ya used'a call close- For somebody who touts an honest flame, you've sure been kickin' up a lotta smoke to hide what's really goin' on! I know about the mountain now, Garrick! I know about what they do, the people up there, about Ultovex!"

Dario had not drawn his blade, though he had struck just the same by his words alone- And such conviction was uncommon in the words of mere men, faced by their goliaths. A man without a functional mana circuit retaliated relentlessly against Garrick,

"Apathy, false morality, FAKE. HEROES! You're the very same plague you claim is blightin' this island, Garrick! Maybe you're blinded by the smoke you've kicked up, maybe nobody else can see ya for what ya are, even you- But I sure as hell can, cause I'm one'a the people left who saw what came before! N' I know you used'a have a noble goal!"

Swatting a hand aside to wave away climbing flames, Dario struggled for air, steadily robbed of it,

"I... The Garrick I used'a know... Fought in SEARCH of the light! You got... Lost in the chase, and it seems like- Like you've started'a believe there nevah was any light! The Garrick I knew was TOUGHA than that! Were you scared, is that it?! Did you start... Start- Doubtin' yourself, did somebody prey on the dark in ya heart while the years went by, did ya get lost in ya own smoke?!"

Dario was forced to pull back. He was almost breathless by now, amid thin air thinning further.

"You're... I know you're... You're stronger than what you've become, Garrick! This AIN'T you! I know you're stronger than any'a the pain... *Pant*... Anythin' you've endured, that power's still stewin' inside'a you, that dragon's flame ya SWORE to me you'd chase, n' make a legend for yaself in findin'! What was it you said dragons weren't, back then?! Do you even remember?!"
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garrick would stare down Dario with a steady grit of his teeth, amber motes burning with distaste and growing fury as he opened and closed his grip upon his great sword's handle, a vein bulging upon his forehead as he listened to his once side kick's rebuke without a single word. The longer Dario spoke, the more angry it appeared the drakan would become, heat building around his former as drips of molten liquid steadily plopped from his cracked scales to the grass below, melting it as the green was ignited in flame that continued to consume the grass plain where the duo had met.

The ruthless progress of magma. Unyielding and without mercy.

The drake paced a step forward as a trail of molten liquid bubbled behind him, flames trailing steadily as the ground beneath his feet was consumed by flame. The blade never ceased to be pointed at Dario as he glanced with furrowed, furious eyes at the fisherman, clacking his jagged rows of teeth together almost by instinctto resist biting off his own tongue from the condensed anger. Once, Garrick might have been capable of being swayed from his path, drawn away from the temptation of the great flame.

But he had embraced it, filled the emptiness of Ryujin's silence with a fire that did not fade. The flames of hatred had not faltered within him, and he would not return to the cold.

"I sound NOTHING LIKE THEM. I DO NOT WHISPER IN THE SHADOWS, WAITING FOR A QUIET END AS I SUP UPON MEANINGLESS PLEASURES. I DO NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO BE SEDUCED BY PERFUMED LIES! ALL I SEE IS FIRE DARIO, AND I HAVE NEVER SEEN A LIGHT HALF SO CLEAR IN ITS DISPLAY OF THE FILTH THAT ENCRUSTS THIS ISLAND."

The drakan would plunge his black blade into the volcanic soil beneath his feet, molten cracks spreading in every direction as flames began to leak from the jagged fissures. The black metal of his blade was beginning to glow from the sheer retention of the magma's fire, and it did not appear that Garrick was beginning to cool or calm himself down at Dario's words. Quite the opposite, in fact.

A quiet, tranquil fury possessed the fire drakan's next words, barely audible as a whisper amongst the heated galesof the volcanic heights stoked by the roaring flames of the field.

"I did not lie in showing you the mountain boy. I tried to open your eyes, to reveal to you a place where those that don't bend to the will of stagnation make their keep. It was a mercy, a chance for you to become more than another ignorant slave. A chance wasted, I see, on another contented swallower of moralistic babble. A hearth built upon a foundation of glass."

The drakan would release a horrible cackle, a bark of malevolent laughter that boomed across the fiery plain with deep reverbation and dripping venom as the drake's molten eyes held upon Dario, spreading his emerald, cracked scaled arms out wide as if to display himself to the invisible crowd. To the world he had cast aside with spite.

"I am no plague, but the cure to this fetid rot. When a wound turns black, the rest of the body sickens. A clean burn will sear away the maggots and gristle, feeding gluttonously upon the corpse of this foul place. Should maggots be allowed to fester and breed? A self-perpetuating cycle cannot be fixed, only turned to glass and shattered, made anew by the flame."

The drakan would continue to pace towards Dario as he spoke, glowing amber motes focused with vindicitive fury upon his former sidekick as he flourished his black blade through the smoky air with a sudden surge of flame, the heat dance around the black scaled plate of the swordsman's armor as he made his molten progress across the scorched field.

"I searched for the light, and you knowwhat I found Dario? A lie. Pretenders. Self centered fallacies. Moralistic dogma. Those with the power to do good taking the path of least resistance at the cost of legitimacy. I found that the light of this island is a FARCE. I will make my own from the ashes."

A cruel grin spread across the fire drakan's face as he displayed each and every one of his jagged rows of teeth, eyes burning with flame as he finally stood directly before Dario, blade pointed directly at the fisherman's chest as he made a tsking noise with his tongue.

"I am far stronger now than ever before because of what I've become. Because I found a flame that will not go out from a stiff wind, compromise to misfortune. I will become a dragon Dario, I will hunt the skies and char this island to blackened wood and molten glass. My dream has not been abandoned, you ignorant slave. It is finally being realized."

Pointing the tip of the super heated weapon up against Dario's torso, a single question would be asked as Garrick glared murder at the boy.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Dario had been forced back several steps, as many as he had advanced. A wall of flame, the cracks in the earth, the burbling floes of magma, and finally- The tip of Garrick's blade, leveled at his chest, advancing at a glacial pace.

It was a godless climate that had grown the creature in front of him.

Where had the air gone? He smelled sulfur, felt heat rising up his thigh and dragging it low. Even now, withering in the heat, Dario struggled to keep standing- It had grown a fantastic degree more difficult to And yet he spoke, breathlessly, forced to a knee, with the tip Garrick's reddening blade bearing sharply against his chest.

"You sound... Just like... Another... Demagogue...!"

It would have been far easier- Far safer, even -to have simply rolled over and accepted what Garrick said. Talk of gristle, maggots, the rot of Agartha, hollow promises from hollow people- It wastrue, even Dario had seen those with the means, magic that he was not privy to, simply opt not to put it to use. Yet he had seen the same people fight to protect the budding nations of the frontier alive. He had seen many aspects of magi, and he found only one constant:

Magi are mortal, susceptible to their shared folly.

Garrick was no exception. Even if the Drakan had fallen, even if his dream had twisted into something horrific- How could he, in good conscience, turn away from a man he knew bore some light within? The accusation had come as a staggering surprise to Dario, given the circumstance. It was a greater surprise still when Dario's hand rose, clutching heavily at the head of Garrick's red-hot blade, slick with the immolating fury of his magma.

Dario had never stopped to consider he wasn't burning.

Fingers tightening on the inexorable heft of the Nyeshk greatsword, plumes of fire bursting between the whitened knuckles of the non-magi's fist, a metallic screech raking the surface as his hand tightens around the blade, draws white marks along the metal's surface. Audibly sucking a breath, Dario buckles where he kneels, turning to grip his other hand upon the tip of the blade, start rising with it clutched between them.

Past the veil of fire, an eye has opened to meet the Drake's gaze- A vibrant jade, surging with the conviction Dario had perhaps always lacked, the same power that had always eluded him. It glowed at Garrick- Menaced him with a different kind of heat, wisps of blue intruding at it's fringes. The long, defiant metal screech against the sword continued, until a jarring polarity starts to build against the Drake.

Dario starts low, hoarsely, tears turning to steam as soon as they leave his eyes- Before stealing back his earlier resolve, evolving into a far louder proclamation against the Drake,

"I'm gonna... I'm... I'm going- To GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN!"

When the air returns with his second wind, Dario roars out his defiance, rising sharply enough to cup his hands against the Nyeshk greatsword and try to force Garrick back, lever it's mass against him with enough raw might to send him skidding back to where he'd first advanced from.

In the dark of the new moon, showered by stars, Dario stands remade: The volcanic essence of Garrick's might, the magma pouring over Dario's fingers, stains him the shade of soot- And it spreads, greying his hair, pools of flame and raw mana erupting in uncontrolled, explosive jets from the cracks in his armor, the inferno of his mortal soul pouring in every hue from him.

And two pools of glowing jade, glaring back at Garrick.

Dario's spear had burned away in the battle, but it's head of mithril- Newt's Fang, the same dagger Garrick had forged for him -remained, and he snatched it from the ground, turning it in hand to align his thumb against the hilt.

"You've lost sight so dearly of what you are, you can't even answer me! You've become a pitiful man, Garrick! Are your ideals SO EASILY LOST ON YOU?! I'm takin' you down right here, right now, and then I am DRAGGING you back to the light!"
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garrick would blink with surprise, then boiling rage as he leaped back a few paces before clasping his blade's handle tight between the seams of his cracked scaled hands, molten lava steadily dripping from his bodily fissures as his amber motes hung intently focused upon Dario. The fisherman's ascension from a non-magi to one that walked the path of magma was usually something that would have dredged admiration even from the bitterest of the drakan's states. He was once the swordsman's sidekick after all.

But one word above all else would caused his eyes to widen with unpronounceable rage. A twitch of his amber motes as the ignited with flame as veins bulged from the side of his head, his jagged rows of teeth gritting teeth as he drew back his black greatsword and prepared to cut Dario in two.

Dragons were not to be pitied.

The drake would leap forth to fight with a glide of fiery lava trailing behind him, dragging his molten blade across the grass as the battlefield was rended asunder in flame.
(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dario has been defeated by Garrick! They're unable to continue fighting.

{RP BATTLE} You have WON round 1!

 The battle began as Dario's molten passage collided with Garrick's own, the two magma magi slammed against each other in a speechless song of blades and flames with brutal kinetic shockwaves of force as the pair matched their strength against each other. The fisherman's flames were not to be underestimated, and a fair few brutal scorches and slashes of the swordsman dug deep into the seams of the drake's scale plate.

Yet, Dario was a human, and the dragonblood possessed great strength. For every blow Dario dealt to the smith's form, a brutal cleave was delivered in turn with his greatsword of densely hammered nyeshk. Dario had only adopted the flame as a human, after all. The fire drakan was born to it, a birthright as much as his wings. They did not fight dissimilarly, but Garrick was inherently attuned to both the heat and brutal melee combat.

With a lunge through the midst of the clanking of blade and spearpoint, the drake would smash hisblade with brutal kinetic force across the field much like a stick and ball, a trail of flame gusting past the fellow magma magi and scorching underneath him as he tumbled across the field. Leaning his black greatsword over his plated shoulder, the fire drakan would flash his teeth with a bark of hateful laughter as he turned his amber motes upon the tumbled fisherman.

"This is the power of the flames of hatred Dario. This is the true potential of fire. Not the warmth of companionship, not a humble, homely hearth. No, true flame is that of utmost and furious rage. A kindling of endless supply for one's fire inside and out. Now, you shall see a dragon end a fight."

The drake would grit his teeth as jagged, bony wings lacking any skin or flame would sprout with a spatter of molten blood from the seams upon the black plate of Garrick's cuirass. They began to flap idly, flicking molten blood about the burning field with idle flaps as Garrick prepared to finish what he had begun.
(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Dario, for how impressive his first display of magic had been, had only a slim chance of matching a seasoned veteran. His magic was unwieldy, a dizzying rush of the kind he'd never felt before, mana coursing through the fringes of his senses, mana circuit straining to fit the sudden influx of power.

The world moved too quickly for him to match it.

Careening across dry grass, gouts of flame and upturned earth follow Dario's passage, magma gathering in small craters. He gathered himself steadily; Garrick's words by now were dim in his registry, the newborn magi's teeth gritting at his circuit's reluctance to accommodate more power than it was.

"Gotta… Dig deeper...!"

Rising from where he knelt, out of a pool of molten heat, Dario beheld the macabre visage of Garrick's wings- Flensed and bare, an unwholesome sight. But dragons had been felled by men before.

True to his newest craft, he rose to the challenge. Dario flips the Fang, perhaps the only item on his person that'd survive this encounter, and poised himself opposite Garrick. The ache, the pain that he'd felt being brutalized by him in the past- Dull, now.

"Potential of fire this, rage that- All you've got is RHETORIC! You sure talk a lot- Like somebody always convincin' themselves their path is righteous!"
(Dario)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{RP BATTLE} You have WON round 2!

{RP BATTLE} You have WON the battle!

Dario has rolled 6 or under: they may be captured!
 ** Garrick has inflicted an injury upon Dario. ("Molten Claw Puncture", "Three deep holes protrude from Dario's torso, puncture wounds that just barely avoid the fisherman's organs by fate or surgical precision. The punctures in the chest are deep, and worse, burned black by an immense amount of searing, molten heat. The wound itself is as bad as the internal burns, and it will take a long time for Dario to recover fully.", "Temporary", "Duration: Long (12 days)") **
You stole Dario's Newt's Fang.

 Garrick would lunge within range of the spearpoint bearing fisherman with unyielding scales in spite of their cracks, his skeletal wings trailing behind his plated form as he slammed forth with immense weight and heat with his black blade. Cleaving strikes would slam relentlessly against the human's defense with a berserker's fearlessness and implacability, the emerald flare of his reika handprint crackling with green flame.

Slowly, molten blood would appear to drip up the various bones of the fire drakan's skinless wings with a complete defiance of gravity, a flame trailing behind the red ichor almost like an accelerant. The more alight they became, the more reckless and powerful the dragon aspirant appeared to become. His molten eyes held firmly upon Dario as he pursued the magma magi with ruthless focus.

Breaking through the fisherman's defense with a harsh smash of his blade's handle against Dario's fingers, Garrick would removea single clawed hand from the great sword's grip before lunging forth and grasping Dario by his throat with an air choking clutch of the fire drakan's claws. Lifting the boy off the ground with brute strength as flames lapped trailed up the choking right arm like serpents. Slinging his great sword back into the burn marred leather of his back straps, the drake would continue to choke Dario as he marched him over to the cliff's edge with a glimmer of malevolence in his eyes.

"This is the power of the flames of hatred Dario. The true potential of magma. You have potential, but you're green. You don't know the way of the world yet. Let me show you."

The drake would jab his glowing hot, molten claws directly into Dario's guts as he continued to choke the fisherman, glancing with violence directly into his eyes with his own furious, amber motes. His claws would begin to glow with immense heat, the light visible even from the three holes that now steamed with burnt flesh as the wounds blackened.

Ripping his claw out with a spray of Dario's blood, the fire drakan would snatch the spear point that had been of his own artifice, a weapon given to his sidekick long, long ago. The Newt's Fang, for a young hero. Fitting, then, that it was this he would reclaim. Glancing at Dario's wounds briefly with a grunt, he'd glance up one more time at the fisherman with a flash of his jagged, sharp toothed grin.

"I hope I've been quite informative Dario. Now, learn to hate me and your fire may one day match my own. For now, have a nice trip."

The drake would toss the choked Gehennan off the side off the cliff with a flick of his claws, wiping the blood that was burnt sticky upon them with a brief patting down of his engineer's coat upon their length. His wings of flame flapped behind him with immense heat as Garrick dusted his hands off with a job well done.

It felt good to be bad.
(Garrick)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had happened so fast, Dario couldn't adequately keep track of what had happened. Perhaps victory was too great an achievement to dream of, for now, came the dull thought as he was hoisted into the air, dragged from the ground.

What recourse was left? He considered is options, finding scant few as his vision narrowed, frayed at the edges like cigarette burns. He struggled, as he always has- And felt the cold blossom of pain as claws jabbed their way into his gut, mirroring his first wound at Garrick's hand. He choked.

Consciousness left him, stretched past the limit of even a magi, the soot tone draining slowly from Dario's flesh, ash crumbling away to reveal blackened hair and swarthy flesh. He could muster no retort, now. No voice to pluck at Garrick's chords any longer.

Dario could hardly tell he was falling, not even when he crashed through the roof of an abandoned, cliffside stall.
(Dario)

Newt's Fang [WEAPON]
"A glinting, silvery dagger forged of lightweight, ultra sharp mithril. Fit for slicing bread and vagabonds alike in the pursuit of justice, the short blade's tip has been curved at the end not unlike the jagged tooth of a dragon. Naturally, it is far smaller and less dangerous, but every young hero needed to start somewhere. The maker's mark of three draconic talons curved around a single coin is stamped proudly into the dagger's handle, the surface of which appears to have been shaped in the forging process to possess the pattern of cracked scales."