9/12 Skies Belong to the Dragons

(Preemptive warning, this part was just the battle between Nyx and Tih. It's referenced in the log and gives context, but isn't part of the dev. Can skip if your eyes hurt, the "Later that evening" is the beginning of the fun.)

Silence met Malphas, only a curt nod. Something else had come into their surrounding areas, that slowly drew the gaze of the Kaor's eyes-- The thousand of which that rest beneath a thin, translucent layer of leathery skin. They open, the sound of flesh tearing as bright green eyes face the newborn Archon.

A chirping, hiccup of a laugh would rise from the demon, a deep-lunged call that they had created many times over-- Though instead of a call of the hunt, there seemed to be a tone of amusement underlying.

"Kin..."

Bone claws flex from the fingertips of the kaor, perhaps out of instinct. For a behemoth of a being, for once they felt naturally beneath the one they looked at, for such were the primal hierarchy of the demons upon Agartha.

Yet Pestilence were less demon, than monster. They had long since sacraficed a Yokai's pride to ascend in their own rite, to exist for something greater.

"Come."

Such words explode outwards, enough to rattle the snow from the cliffs, and to cause even the most stagnant of icicles to shudder, before the behemoth would begin pacing north.
(Pestilence)

A cruel smile graced their lips before they gave a simple bow, Though it was a mockery of anything else. Arms folded neatly underneath their cloak yet the strangest thing about the new archon was a simple fact. They had a single horn that seemingly had splintered off into something else that sparked with a slight vermillion mana. A new gauze..after all they were full of deceit. Life of running and defending had gained them new sights..yet there would be something else, Something new within it.


A new rythem to learn from their kin..To see what else the world had to show them through vermillion eyes. Following after the Voidkin, almost as if they were simply gliding across the snow. After all how could something this short radiate such power?


A new Rythem to be learned..After all this I still have much to learn, Enlighten me..Show me what i've left behind for something greater."


Show me..the wilderness of the void.
(Oath)
None but the shudder of earthquakes followed in every step of Pestilence. A looming sort of pressure followed them, if such could be incersed-- There were an emptiness that followed in the wake of the Prophet, that danced and sung songs of whispers amidst the earthquakes. Spirits unseen, that can be heard laughing as they encircle the two, unable to interact, but only watch.

The endless sea of spectators-- They could be seen now, as eyes that winched open tears through reality itself, rifts to but another dimension. The corruption seeps, like stab wounds within a pail of water, yet desperatly writhing like maggots. Those very eyes stare as if pulling the Archon apart limb by limb, so that they may see inside. It gave a feeling of vulnerability-- As acknowledged as such a feeling should be, from a king of demons.

"I'd offer my admiration to you, kin-- For your ascension. It were a feat that... Once disinterested us. A meaningless gesture, as I felt all our kin-- Yourself included, would die."

"We, do not die. We will live, in death and undeath. An utter limbo to the war of time which relentlessly assaults the masses of this continent."

The Kaor unhinges their jaw, easily wide enough to fit that of a standing Valmasian between its teeth, only to crunch down once more. The shockwave from such a gesture, that has taken te heads of countless, would cause the snow to stir once more.

"We, are king. As Ipos has fallen, as the Archons of old have fallen-- Yet you have ascended."

"Proveto us that you are more, so that we may find the motivation to strive further. To be king once more."

The Kaor would turn, pacing backwards if on;y a few paces. Even if its back were turned to the Kaor, a skyful of eyes continued to stare on.

"Or kneel, now. Accept your place upon this heirarchy, of primal ways to our kind."

The Turning once more, the eyes of Pestilence would no longer rest red, but an utter, twisting amalgamation of colors that shone brighter than that of even a spire shard. Colors, that did not exist within Eternia, would shine brighter than the gleaming moonlight itself.

"Let us show you-- Follower of the sealed, what true freedom is."
(Pestilence)
There was something..different in the way the archon moved. Listless, Unhindged, almost as if everything was a sickening dance to the very end. Prophet verses another Prophet of different faiths. Yet only one could truly stay upon a heirarchy. A heirarchy that one clad with the blessing of freedom.


Gliding across the snow left only twisted vermillion flowers across the landscape. Twisting the very founderys of nature to their own laws. Fighting tooth and nail against the world to change its ideas, to build up a new argartha.

Admiration...something I haven't felt in a long..long time. Gehenna robbed me of that feeling. And that...Isn't something I'd care to ever let go of again."

Stopping in front of the void caller they hummed a small tune as the horn adorning them sparked an ever darkening crimson celestial visage. Eyes focusing deep within as there was a slight vermillion glintwithin their gaze.

"Kings, Queens..royality...I am still technically a Gehennan, yet I refuse to kneel. So then come dear kin, Brother of the stars..."

A streaming hiss filled the air as the archon swung Arkham from its back, Vermillion mist pooling off of it almost concealing their movements but even within the impenetrable mist..there was an almost faint sound of wing beats.

"From the darkness we were contrived. From Gehenna...I am the the embodement of Deceit and freedom. The world will hear my name once again."
(Oath)
 It were a test of blood, one could argue. That of two bishops of their very own, twisted realities.

It were Pestilence whom had initiated combat, the ground facing tremors that would alter the balance of not only Oath, but the very spectator's who watched. Needless to say, it were a bout between two beings of unrelenting strength.

For its size, Pestilence were unsurmounted in their agility, a single dash able to carry them across boundless fields of snow to cause the Archon to be struck with sheer, unrelenting ether-- Tainted a sickly green hue.

And yet, despite the blood shed from both parties, Pestilence found their back to the wall, struck by the mana of Oath, tainted of the sealed god itself. It were... Relieving, as much as it were painful. A sickening sense of masochism meeting the injury such a strike would have caused.

"Not yet... No. We are not done. Not yet."

Stone is sent flittering across the clearing in which they fought, as the Kaor tore itself from the cliffside. It bled a sickening secretion of ebony, yet trudged on as if it were left unwounded.

"You will kneel-- Not to Pestilence, but to that of the Void itself. We shall appease it. We shall."

With that, the very bones of the Kaor would twist and rend, it's very body seeming to elongate, growing further than its former collosal height. Yet where growth came naturally to those of demonkind-- This, were more akin to the swelling of a balloon, than a growth spurt.

And so, Pestilence's charge would ensue once more.

(Pestilence)
Where corruption did not stain, purple and black blood had. The battlefield lay drenched in the aftermath of the honor duel of two native of Agartha.

Ascension had wrought great strength to the former Kaor, enough to nearly strike Pestilence down... Yet omens once spoken only proved themselves further-- That Pestilence, did not die.

Oath were not weak, as Nyx were. Looking to the Archon were like looking at another demon entirely. Something Pestilence could respect, something Pestilence could admire.

Yet they found it within themselves.. Impossible. Impossible to kneel, to accept being underneath their kin. They were king-- The king the Void had chosen as their champion of right. They could not lose.

Portals, though too unstable to become of anything, would tear through reality, allowing blasts of corrupt ether to flow freely from the Void itself to reality, the sounds of howling laughter and distant screams are heard, as a thick black haze filled the clearing in only a split moment-- The very snap of a fingers. In this darkness, the artistic deviancy of the Void were no longer withheld.

An endless sea of colors, enough to blind those who looked too enthusiastically. Reality itself contorted to sickening whims, with an endless sea of faces that attatched themselves to eyes that had remained from former times, crying with laughter as they crowd the area that surrounds Oath. It were... A special kind of hell.

Even as they rest the epitome of a sponge, holes littering their body, the Kaor continued to walk through attacks as if unphased, despite the evidence of damage upon their physical self. It were like a puppet, forced along by drawstrings of a higher power-- Ones that did not care for the wellbeing of Pestilence.

Only success. Only entertainment.

Their bout reached its end as Oath met a backhand from the voidling. The utter force behind such a strike could have pulverized a group of non-magi into a pile of organs and red misst. It sent the body of Oath tattering through cold winter winds as if they were a ragdoll, into the cliffside beneath spectators that were not of the Void's own summoning.

That very hand reaches out, with rotting digits wrapping around the much smaller form of their kin.

"Your rejection of our blessing, all those years ago... It truly is tragic."

"You've grown, my kin-- Yet even in ascension... It is not enough.

The Kaor held Oath to their visage, mere inches from their deer-skull of a head.

"We--.... I, anticipate your growth. Until the day that you can overtake us."

"I am King... Kneel, kin."

With that, Oath is thrown back into the clearing, unto the endless drifts of snow they fought withing-- So that they may fulfill the kaor's demands, even as they stood even still, black blood streaming from their wounds, completely unnoticed, staring with that all-seeing gaze that were not their own.
(Pestilence)
Two titans both of the celestial world. But even then there were a massive difference. But even throughout the fight of giants on both sides there was one thing that never left the archon's face.

And that was their ever so cruel grin that appeared within the moonlight. Until that ever fatal blow.


There was something that felt..strange. As if the ire of the moon was had fallen distant, Vermillion mist slinking away within it. They couldn't lose..They were the Envoy of the end. That which would free him. Tainted vermillion celestial might stayed forth. But all in that dear attempt they were tossed into the ground a few meters away.

For they had forgotten the most important thing, What need of their goals when they were free of mind and body. And with it came their ever so distorted laughter from their ground position. And from it came the tainted celestial mana being nearly drawn into the area around the archon.


They wouldn't kneel. Freedom had sacrifices and there would be no greater power that would hault.

And from the ground they weren't rising themselves, something else was pushing them upwards. Crude, Fluttering..crimson static wings expanded outward as the light of belial once more shown upon them.

"Kneel..Kneel..Kneel..To think I would forsake my freedom..for a hierarchy that serves the world no more. They've conquered spire islands, Humanity in itself has gotten stronger..and yet you expect us to kneel? Kin perhaps it was the slumber you went through but I see the world in a new light..."

Raising Arkham once more the Archon pointed its staff towards the Void speaker. Vermillion blood made its way down their lips as their ever present cruel grin surfaced again. The perfect look for a maddening Envoy.


How else would a true follower look within the moonlight drapped in the sounds of madness?

"To Kneel is to die, And I refuse to die on the ground like a the dogs others have so far become."
(Oath)
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 The gaze of thousands slowly fell to a dim, until eventually, the countless eyes that fell before Oath would simply.. Disappear. Their wounds had begun to rapidly clot, looking as if worms writhing within their wounds had begun to form that leathery ebon skin once more.

"Then stand-- But know where you stand. Walk unto the endtimes with us kin-- Yet let not ascension get to ones head."

The Kaor's neck snapped sideways, into a ninety degree cant that would have broken the spine of any other beast.

"At our side-- One does not get in our way, as we will not get in yours."

"Old sermons... Old agreements... Yet We, desire to hear your agreeance once more...."
(Pestilence)

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Later that evening...

Garrick had seen enough. The clash between the two demons of the cosmos, one a fresh ascendant and the other an old beast of the void, had taught him much. Evolution was not a certain thing, even the greatest beings required steady steps to master the power that was by nature theirs to claim. The fire drakan's molten eyes had clung intently to the battle, to the narrow victory by Tih-Noctem, and to the shattering sky above their titanic clash as stars fell in a hail of glorious starfire. Oath's power was clear, immense as his growing mastery of the fell Arkham, but his immense strength still required refinement.

The two could be of aid to each other, then. The fire drakan needed one that could push him beyond his limits once more. The archon needed to learn to tear down the sky. A fortuitous meeting indeed.

Leading Oath and Helos up to the familiar mountainous plateau high above the mortal worries of the island, the cracked scaled smith would clank sabaton bysabaton as he mulled over the recent evening of cliff jumping and journeyman ascension. He had sprouted his wings in learning to fly, but only when he had been shoved past his breaking point by immense amounts of trauma and exhaustion. The catalyst then wasn't some natural instinct to fly, but drawing upon power that was lingering just beneath his scales, awaiting the moment when he required it most to flourish.

A life of laziness and common craftsmanship, free of trials and conflict, had dulled his claws.

Standing at the edge of the cliffside as he placed a freshly rolled, ragged cigarette into his jagged toothed maw, the drake would take an idle puff from the smoke before his molten eyes flashed over the archon as he crossed his emerald, cracked scaled arms over the layered black plate of his cuirass. Briefly sizing the apex demon of the stars up, he'd nod in affirmation as his draconic visage spread into a wide, sharp toothed grin.

Yes, this would be an ideal trial.

"Good Oath, I have brought you here for a reason. Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful view and all, but industry is the name of the game. I watched your battle with Pestilence, saw you call down the stars with incredible might. But...the strength of your ascendancy is still new to you. And mine is yet to be claimed. I believe we can help each other in this manner, if you'll humor me with a little game."

Clacking his jagged rows of teeth with a light hum, the drake would glance off towards the distant ground below, humming to himself as he blew rings of smoke up towards the frigid expanse of the mountaintops.

"I want you to push yourself beyond your limits, tear down as many asteroids, comets, and bits of star matter from the sky as you can, and bombard me with them as long as your reserves can manage. No matter how broken I appear, what wounds I incur, or my success in defending my person. It should be good, manly fun."
(Garrick)
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 There was a crude frown across the very nature of the newly ascended archon. Hand flexing outward as they stared intently as they glided across the snow beind Garrik and their cultist. There was something wrong. They were still attempting to hone in the very volitile power within them. Static outlines of wings had long since fallen away from the archon as they continued to march forward. Only to realize that they had come upon..a strange area. For what purpose apparently it would be revealed certainly.

"All things are still learning for us..yet this form is strange. I require..something else, I know that those upon the spire islands encountered..foregn tech. Illoytian relics..If you do see those we would be greatful if you helped craft me jewelry for our sake. But...Humor you with a little game?"


There was acient knowledge trapped within those vermillion eyes. Age long since fortold from a darkened state yet..as they listened they simply let out a darkened laugh. A single hand raised to the sky as it became cloaked within a deep pool of vermillion lights. Each on sparking a corrupted mana although they slightly tilted their head to the very side.

"You want us..to essentually rip the sky assunder while you attempt to avoid it all? Dont blame me if you die drakanite."

And with it came the cracking of the sky. Perhaps it was the tiring battle against Tih but the stars that came down were fragmented. But they still held onto the same maddening power as they were dragged down by the force of the archon's anger. A way to vent..but even as they did so they were drawing in power of the moon.
(Oath)
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Garrick would nod steadily as he flashed the archon a jagged toothed grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, slowly dredging his black greatsword from the burn marred rungs upon his backplate before plunging it into the nearby rock. Molten heat leaked from the blade even as it left the magma drakan's hands, the heat retention of hardy nyeshk half of what made it such an effective weapon for the dragon aspirant.

Yet, for this exercise, he would require his true claws. It was the only way to push his limits.

Slowly, the drake would pick at the bindings that held his heavy, black scaled cuirass in place, thumbing at the straps and clacking against the metal lightly with his claws as he worked on slowly dredging the heavy armor from his musculature. It was a practiced gesture for a proficient swordsman and armorer like the fire drakan, almost relaxing in a way. And the cool, frosty air did feel quite good upon his scars, the itch of his cracked scales.

Theheavy plate would tumble with a crunch of powdery snow to the ground as Garrick stretched out his muscled laden torso, the full extent of his marred personage displayed to the archon and young Helos as he prepared for the trial at hand. At the center of his chest, a glowing, fiery handprint of simmering reika sat, countless blackened veins and spiderwebbed cracks trailing from its center across the entire length of his visible body. Where the black lines crossed his emerald scales, cracks leaking igneous fluid that pattered lightly to the ground with growing puddles of slush as steam rose up towards the distant, moonlit sky.

"Ilyothian artifices? As it happens, I'm somewhat familiar with the brand. It's where I got these wounds that shattered my scales and opened my eyes to the sickly truth of this island. A blight, mutant beast in the depths of the ruins of old Ilyoth. Learning to forge in the manner of their make would be a boonto me as much as yourself, though we ought to find an ancient demon forgeworks to truly acquire what you seek. Yet, that is for later. Now is this little game."

Cracking his neck, knuckles, and back with an amused cackle as he took a few steps back to the center of the snow dotted plateau, Garrick would stretch his claws out as he held his molten, amber motes upon the archon with a swift, two clawed salute towards the demon of the red star. What a learning experience this would be, a bit of jolly exercise with good companions in the welcoming breeze of winter.

Perfectly natural.

"Almost entirely right. Except that I won't try to avoid it, why, that would defeat the purpose entirely. It is time to sharpen my claws and stoke my flames good Oath, ascension beckons."
(Garrick)
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 An ever growing crude smile graced the archons lips as they gave a far too low bow before they seemingly flicked their wrist upwards. And from that motion came doom from the world. Visible cracks filled the sky all before they spread to eventually splinter. Falling bodies of purely tainted celestial mana came down from the skyline before they ended on their ever present breakneck course.


And that was towards the drakanite all for this little game..and if it was a game they wished to play they would do so greedly. For the full extent of their might they breathed in heavily, Feeling their new form awaken to something..different. A new flowing sensation as the moon stared down upon them. Its crimson ire stayed on the demon as they slowed their breathing to a point before forcing themselves to inhale more mana, more air, and simply more space.


All to further their gift, so that they wont ever bow to the world again. To florish upon their tower of vermillion light, to ecompass the world in red, to fly among those who wished to grow within the moon...And for that they needed a new form. A new way to harness the flow of power from within them. But even their ascended form had its limits, and it seemed today would be the day they would learn where they stood.

Yet they continued onward, Focusing on their strange rythem of breathing..For it however to work as intented they needed sacrifice as all such beings did. And so why not sacrifice some of their life to fuel their undying might of the stars.

"To hold..To conqure...Hold strong and true, The path of what you seek is laid before you with thorns and bricks. Tear down each wall, and build up the power that you seek within." Even though those words seemingly bore into the mind of Garrik, if they had so much as looked at the small archon they would find their teeth gritted together. Regulating theirbreathing as they imposed a self inflicted restriction..
(Oath)
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Garrick would watch the sky sunder with his molten eyes as he gritted his teeth, taking a long, deep breath as he steadied his nerves before scraping his claws against each other with a flash of sparking light. So this was the power of an archon? Of a demon above all others that had mastered the stars. The heat and pressure of the falling celestial objects could be felt long before they arrived upon the drake's person, but the drake would not run or turn his back to flee as he planted his black sabatons into the snow that lay beneath him.

He would not fall down. A dragon did not yield.

And then the storm of cosmic fury was upon him with scorching starfire and immense pressure. The scorching bodies of red starlight slammed against the cracked scales of the drakan's form as he did his best to claw at their approach, swiping his molten talons before him as the barrage continued with the relentless progress of a true demon. Yet, for every one bit of burning cosmic energy he split with his jagged appendages, five more slammed against his person with scourging, tainted strength as his wounds were inflamed by the rush of cosmic fury.

As if flayed by sheer, meteoric light itself, his cracked scales would begin to pour molten blood from their seams with each ruthless, concussive repetition that slammed into the drakan's musculature. Each forceful crash issued forth the wet, squelching, snapping noise of bones cracking under the weight of the sky as flesh tore and singed from star fire. Each series of scorching skyfall would seem to slide the drakan further and further back as he did his best to plant his boots down.

But the pain was not just physical. His mind screeched from the corruptive taint.

Red light and green, the pangs of burning reika and simmering scarlet twirled with agony throughout the drake's thoughts as he slashed wildly, his nerves dragged to their breaking point and shattered by the continued,undefended barrage of sheer cosmic force. The fire drakan had expected nothing less from an archon, nothing less from the dread power of Arkham, but the two shades of pain weaved together nonetheless in a storm of overstimulated agony.

Yet, the words of Oath spoke clear within his mind, loud amongst the contrasting whispers of Belial and Azrael. They could be clasped, held upon, a catalyst for the building, burning fury that was steadily kindling within the drake's breast. As his bones snapped, his claws chipped, and his flesh was scorched by the bombardment of the heavens, the amber motes of Garrick would hold upon the sky as he clasped tightly upon the dream of draconic ascension. Of spreading his wings and hunting the skies as was his birthright.

He would never be a newt again.

"I...will not fall. A scale will shatter before it bends. Continue....noble Oath. Do not....hold back."
(Garrick)
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 The battle and the bought of re-oppening the stars once more had seemingly drawn a deep wedge from within the demon. A jarring tear felt throughout all their being as the onslaught of celestial taint continued to fall upon Garrick. A clawed hand grasped near where their very heart was as the storm of celestial mana almost ceased abruptly before it rained even harder.

Their own form had suffered from their strange attempt at opening a breathing path. Labored breath came from the full usage of vermillion mana. It took what it always gave and gave what it took in full. And here was no different.


Except the building pain they fought through as they continued to breath, and breath through their form they did, even if they could no longer hold up right the coursing of Celestial mana they instead chose to reserve it for this single moment to summon something even greater than they had ever dared do in their time..


"We...Gahk..Will surpass this agony. We will create something new in the decaying smoke.."


They refused to fall even if vermillion liquid spilled from their lips as their single horn dangerously sparked with vermillion light. Perhaps a warning..or perhaps something even stronger was coming..
(Oath)
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 Garrick was acclimating. Back steadily straightening as he forced himself to continue on through the burning waves of starfire and crashes of concussive force, the patterns of falling, red cosmic debris would appear to almost slow down for the overstrained fire drakan. With careful, burning swipes of his jagged claws, energy was split and dispersed as with rapid movements of his cracked inside and out bulky blacksmith arms would slice with precision through the air before him as he growled with draconic fury.

He was born of the flame. The dragonfire was his only sire. The burning, red star would not dominate him. Not as long as he drew breath.

Blood leaked from every orifice the cracked scaled smith had as simmering drops of boiling ichor would splash against the snow in a sickly, red coating. The slush would bubble and rise as steam as the red starlight swallowed the pale luminescence of the moon and continued to bombard him bit by bit. Yet, the more used to the viciousassault of the cosmic heights, the straighter the drake would stand as he gnashed his jagged rows of teeth together with boiling rage that overpowered the anguish. His molten eyes burned with increasing entity as he slashed faster and faster with his chipped claws at the endless rain of fragmented, belialite starfire and moon rock.

And then it quieted.

Taking a long, deep, and heaving breathe as sweat and blood dripped down his forehead, Garrick's knees near buckled from the immense strain that was put upon him before he caught himself, amber motes refocusing upon the archon of betrayal hazily as he grunted lightly with exhaustion. He hadn't asked the apex demon of the red star to stop unconsciously, had he? No, the words would have caused him to gnash off his own tongue if his belly had ever turned quite so yellow. Glancing inquisitively, he'd raise his head with a steady nod to the archon as spread his arms once more, claws glinting with burning,draconic heat.

"Quite...the work out. But....that's not all you have....is it? One last, glorious display then.....send forth everything you have....good Oath of the red...moon."
(Garrick)
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 Clutching at their own place their heart would be Oath's very own single horn did something unique for the first time. It resonated with a near blinding vermillion light before they raised both hands towards the sky. Slowing their breathing once more before they felt the very strength of the moon flowing through them. To take it further they needed to overcome their faults and flaws and learn their new form ever so confidently.


Yet what they resembled? Was almost as if they a simple backdrop of their chestire grin against a red night. But it wasnt just a simple vermillion light that covered them. Their very form radiated with the drawining and channeling of power..but it seemed to damage them physcally to an extent.


"You ask..and you shall recieve for you're in my world now..not a fate that any figure chose."

If the drakanite wanted to tank everything then everything theywould take. From the sky came a distant shimmering dot..but with each passing second as it came down upon them it was very clear that the archon had done something far more than a capable magi might ever be able to do.


For what magi ever called down a comet from the sky?

An animalistic growl came from the mouth of the demon as they moved their hand down swiftly. Fingers almost as if their hand was moving through the very flow of celestial mana that filled the area. Most humans found themselves pushed to the brink to achieve limits and surpass them..yet this time it would be with the help of both that their own form could surpass the darkness within. The vermillion whispers cried out for chaos, and chaos they would bring.
(Oath)
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 Garrick's jaw would drop as he saw the distant, scarlet light amongst the sky as it steadily approached, blood dripping steadily in boiling plops from the gashes that spread about his visage as he planted his black sabatons firmly into the snow beneath his feet. Even from the distance, the drake could feel the burning heat of the red comet that was drawn down upon his person, a more massive concentration of raw cosmic power than even the sum of every ounce of burning ether that had been slammed against him this evening.

The fire drakan stared death in the eyes.

Yet, where once he might have felt immense fear, turned his back, and given up on his foolish escapades, the fire drakan saw only the flame. Veins would bulge upon his forehead as he gritted his jagged rows of teeth, spitting a glob of boiling blood upon the powdery snow as he drew his claws against each other with a spark of heat. The screech of jagged bone scraped against rock would elicit forth like a beckoning call for the comet that came upon him, a stout determination to not walk away from his fated meeting with destiny.

He would not fall this day.

At last, with gusting wind and great pressure bustling across the snowy plains as the comet blacked out the sky in a sea of crimson light, the force would collapse against his form with collosal force, his claws slamming into the great mass of cosmic strength to hold it back from colliding with the plateau, from exploding in a great wave of boiling star fire that would shatter the rock they stood on. His nerves screamed with agony as his claws snapped one by one, chips torn off by the rampaging force of the drawn comet as it shoved him backwards and downwards into the rock with immense weight and heat. The drakan was not strong enough to hold it back, he could not stand against the cosmos.

But who decided that?

Fury turned his vision redder than the starlight as he roared with agony, his muscle fibers tearing bit by bit as he put his all against the encroaching force of the comet. His feet dug harder and deeper into the stone even as he was crushed towards it, his black sabatons skidding and crunching through the mountain as the weight of the stellar object bore down upon every inch of his musculature without the slightest bit of mercy. The void of space did not have time for such idle fancies, there was merely existing and not.

Garrick chose this day to exist. He would not burn out like an ember swallowed.

Pushed beyond his limits, his body stretched even beyond its acclimation and pain tolerance by the scorching heat of the star, the plague upon his mind by the whispers of the twin dark gods, the snapping of his draconic bone from the immense weight of the heavens, his threshold was broken. The scales upon his back would snap as molten ichor leaked from his back in a tide. Steaming lava would slough out upon the plateau as the sickening sound of realigning muscle and cracking bone would issue forth from the ungarbed scales of the fire drakan's back.

Skinless wings of bone would jut out from the drake's back with a scream as blood spattered across the snow in a sizzling puddle, the skinless outlines of draconic heritage flapping in the frigid air even as the comet pushed Garrick further down into the earth. The blood would crawl up the lengths of the bony as the burning flame with the drakan's amber motes would intensify with primal fury, the draconic arrogance to not bend pushing him to remain no matter how difficult it was to maintain his strength.

Flames spread about the bones where reptilian skin might have stood, a pair of wings emanating scorching heat and strength flapping forth to reinvigor the drakan's purchase upon the shattered stone. His shattered scaled musculature would bulge with condensed, burning heat as he growled with anger, his draconic blood boiling at the arrogance of the comet for thinking itwas the sovereign of the sky.

Such was the home of the dragons, their kingdom alone. He would not suffer this indignation.

Puncturing the comet with his molten claws, endless buffets of heat would burn forth to swallow the object as flames spread across Garrick's form, his burning wings flapping proud as he forced himself forward against the mass to destroy it before it destroyed him. In a cataclysmic shockwave of kinetic energy and star flame, the massive comet would explode in a great flash of light as the fire drakan was knocked in a blast of wind off the cliffside, tumbling through the air with barely a drop of willpower left as his flames were near extinguished.

With a last, desperate flap, the drake would glide with an exhausted tumble into the snow, unconscious and shattered by the cosmic force. Yet, the dull rattle of breathe echoed from his cracked scaled form. Molten ichor dripped from all the countless cracks and gouges that spread across his body, but even now they steadily filled in once more with draconic resilience.

He had stood against the comet, the stars. He had not kneeled. He would spread his wings and blacken the sky himself.
(Garrick)