A Traitor's Toll 9/27

 Garrick would spin the restraint around his claw with an idle nod after catching it from Helos, whistling a jolly tune with an idle clack of his jagged rows of teeth before approaching the young woman from behind and carefully snapping it around the occultist's neck. Puffing idly at his ragged cigarette, he'd toss the remote up and down with a light nod to Lord Ultovex before tossing the utility to Sors.
(Garrick)

 Mosa - still bound with rope and with labored breaths would be collared with anti-magical restraint.

A familiar feeling, this was. "Mmgh..."

Words would hardly be murmured from her- as she found herself back in cursed shackles. Familiar spikes just tearing at her neck.

"Not the first time...grk."
(Mosa)
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 Despair raises up the remote control moments after the collar is put around Mosa's neck. He presses inflict pain.
(Despair)
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 Spikes attacking her neck - illicited quite the pain from her as small spikes tore into her neck., though voice would not leak, save for a single eye closing and a gasp of ragged breath - cracked ribs heaving in pain.
(Mosa)
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 Despair says, "Traitor."
 Yin Invidia asks, "Huh?"
 Despair says, "Mosa. Not ya."
 Garrick says, "Well."
 Garrick says, "Technically yes on both accounts."
 Yin Invidia says, "Explain."
 Garrick says, "Yin was just a less successful traitor."
 Mosa says, "Mmgh..."

 Inanis stood watching the surroundings of the mountain, they listened to Nym's words and felt what she said wasn't untrue, Inanis themselves perhaps sat on his ass far too much mostly knowing what would happen if he were to be caught without allies. A sigh escaped their lips before watching Their binder torture the blue haired mortal.

"Someone you captured recently binder? " They asked looking at the girl, Wondering who they were.
(Inanis)
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 Despair says, "Mosa."

 Mosa The accusation of treachery- aye, that was what she had done. "---Aye."
(Mosa)
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 swings the staff against the side of Mosa's face. "This is fer discarding the cape I got ya."
(Despair)
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 Her body would move automatically - however surprise was on her face. That - were not the first words she had expected to hear. The cape...she still had it, but wouldn't reveal that fact.

Instead, Mosa flinched in pain as the rod struck her, blood marking the freshly driven snow.
(Mosa)
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 Garrick would frown briefly as he floated away from Blaire, idly dragging from his ragged cigarette as he approached Lord Ultovex and Mosa with a steady hover above the ground. Crossing his emerald, cracked scaled arms over the black plate of his cuirass, he molten, amber motes held fast upon Mosa with boiling fury as he gritted his teeth together.

She'd nearly gotten him killed. He felt no sympathy or mercy.


(Garrick)
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 The Ultovexian's face would be one filled with hatred. The staff was still held tightly by his darkened fingers, Dusk and Aurum burrowing into the blue haired woman's skull.

"I gav' ya place. Ya wanted ta b a tool tha' was never discared. Ya wanted ta b a person ta always hav' somewhere ta come back ta. I did tha'. I gav' ya purpose, I gav' ya place. An' I gav' ya a cloak ta even keep warm in the cold."

"An' ya threw tha' away. Ya betrayed ta stay in Gehenna o' Huangzhou. Ya stopped comin' to the mountain. Ya hid."

"Ya betrayed ma. Wha' do ya hav' to say fer yaself?"

Again the staff moved, this time intended to kneecap the blue haired woman.
(Despair)
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Inanis watched as the staff was smashed across her face, The Nethradin's gaze merely watching for now clear that their binder wasn't in a good or forgiving mood they merely stood silent. Although hearing that she discarded a cape that was given to them by Lord Ultovex the Nethradin wondered how much longer she would be alive after disvaluing such a gift.
(Inanis)
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Despair says, "Aurora."
 Aurora Cruor says, "Hello."
 Despair says, "Malentine an' Anastacia are havin' a feud an' Reito is dead."
 Despair says, "I think ya mite want ta know those."
 Yin Invidia says, "Huh...."
 Yin Invidia exclaims, "I was right, I told you Malentine wasn't working with her!"

 Aurora blinks.

A smirk almost threatens to reach her visage-- just before Sors' next words are heard, and the demi-angel hears of the fate of her beloved aunt. Someone who despite everything, never held anything against Aurora. They never blamed her or called her wicked- they never...

What?

How?

"..What? Not the part about Malentine. What? What happened to Reito? How do you know she's gone?" The Necromancer wouldn't lie to her. He wasn't really the type to joke about this kind of stuff-- or at all, from what she knew of him. Her fists clench as she awaits his answer.
(Aurora Cruor)
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 Octavia Falkenrath says, "Well! Finally, some good news today."
 Octavia Falkenrath says, "You know, Malentine said Anastacia wanted to chop off a limb of mine? That seems terribly rude. He was apologetic in advance if she was going to get him to try to achieve that goal. Hah."

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 The Ultovexian hand remained firm, ever wrapped around the whispering eye. Most of his attention was focused on Mosa.

"Assassination. Not one I sent out. I told 'em ta kill Magdalen. But then I had Reito dragged up here in pieces. Wouldn't hav' been a sight ya'd hav' liked."

"Honest? It's not something I can real do anything wit'. It's value is much less then some peoples corpses. But I do currently hav' it in ma possession if ya the type who needs ta see something ta confirm it."

"I'm wholly neutral onnit. Neither a direct benefit o' detriment after her fall."
(Despair)
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 Octavia Falkenrath says, "I said no hard feelings if he felt he had to. Plenty of limbs where those come from anyway, with the right meal afterwards."


 No, she believed him.

No, she didn't want to see a bloody corpse of her aunt. It'd probably be worse than what Aurora imagined it to look like.

The witch thought herself to be a lot more numb to the pain and suffering that comes along with loss-- she was wrong. Her heart still aches and throbs when it begins to sink in. When she realizes she would never see the Kitsune again. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, but they're quickly rubbed by a motion of her hand.

Another person.

Gone.

Taken.

"No, I... No. I don't want to see it, no. You can reach the Worldscape, can't you, Lord Ultovex?" she asks, fists remaining clenched. "Do you mind placing her body there? For my uncle? ..I'd consider it a favor."
(Aurora Cruor)
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 The Ultovexian would shake his head.

"As much as I wouldn't mind honorin' tha', I haven't entered the worldscape since Isaac became wha' I can only describe as it's leader. He assaulted the mountain, an' I've fought him thrice in war. Somethang tells ma tha' enterin' his domain would not b something tha' would end without me perishin'."

"But I do 'xpect he'll b by 'ventually. At tha' time can see if he can take the body there. 'Ssumin' he ain't try ta instantly go fer the jugular."
(Despair)
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 Aurora Cruor says, "-If you see Nyphadora then? Could you give it to her? I think he'd want her body. To bury her, and all."
 Despair says, "I do not mind tha'."
 Aurora Cruor says, "Thank you. If you need something, then I owe you one."
 Despair unusually does reach out. A hand settles towards Aurora's shoulder. He pats it, twice, a single squeeze, then moves back to focus on Mosa. "The world is full o' pain. It's full o' sufferin'."
(Despair)
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 Her rattled mind as corrupt fingers began to penetrate into her head would hardly register - yet still she stood to listen. There would be no words then - until staff came crashing into her knees.

Cracked ribs, damaged skull - shattered knees - the traitor's due had yet to be paid with just this.

"I was those things - to be just a tool in someone's machinations an never be discarded. To have a sense of belonging ..."

With bloodied mouth, that she'd wipe clear Mosa found herself reflecting on those events so long ago.

"I lost my sanity with each passing day. I lost myself repeatedly- became a devouring monster and tore apart whatever I could get my hands on, whenever I tapped into this power. It was weak. I - was weak...all I did was follow along with what my 'betters' told me."

Shattered knee caps never hurt so little before - though the collar on her neck certainly had her regret the lack of magic - again.

"And then I was caught by a member of the fourfold - bound like this. Given a 'chance'. Years in prison...but I was free of insanity. Free to reflect on what I had done."

Pain struck then - adrenaline failing her now as the damage to her body -the sheer corrupt malice and pain spread throughout her nervous system.

"Gaaah-...the traitor's due- I knew it'd come eventually. They may have known about Helos - and you...but that doesn't wipe away the rest of what I did." A glance to Garrick, with gnashing teeth.

Mosa knew the price of betrayal - death, worse. A lesson she had taken to heart in her youth. She was free to struggle against her insanity until the devil came to take it's toll.

Today was that day.
(Mosa)
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 Garrick's black sabatons would crunch against the snow as his levitation ceased, focus dismantled by the boiling fury that filled his visage as his molten eyes glared murder at Mosa. The drake was many things; prideful, easy to anger, quick to violence, and all manner of character faults that he wasn't unaware of. But for all of his vices, the fire drakan was no snitch. Perhaps it was honor among thieves, or simply a desire to see the forces of order in disarray after having suffered the rot and stagnation of the island, but he'd never once lead those in opposition of the mountain upon the right path.

And yet Mosa had, and the fire drakan had nearly paid with his life and freedom for it.

"You sold me out for comfort in a gilded cage, Mosa. Did you think...I wouldn't come for you? That I'd allow anything to get in the way of my vengeance? I would have happily forgotten your betrayal if you'd kept my name out of your mouth, but here we are aren't we?"
(Garrick)
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Yin Invidia says, "That ain't happen."

The Ultovexian began to give off a pale green glow around him. Dusk and Aurum remained firmly on the woman forced to her knees. The rattling of chains was constant, the rifts were constant. The Whispering Eye was held so tightly Sors knuckles turned white. Whiter at least, the skin almost looked charred.

"Ya had place. Ta b something great. Ta belong. Ya say ya lost ya sanity. I say ya had a place. Ya were a tool, but ya were a person wit' a purpose. One tha' I even considered turnin' into ma Accursed. An' ya went an' ya betrayed ma."

"Wore wha' they wanted ya ta wear, became wha' they wanted ya ta b. A chance ta b free from insanity? Ya were only given a chance ta run away from wha' I offered ya."

"An' ya took it. An' now ya here."

The Whispering Eye is slowly moved forwards. The end of the stuff is put under Mosa's chin, tilting her head up to look up towards him. His eyes both became a pale green.

"You betrayed us, Mosa. An' fer tha', there is no fixin'. I do not desire a tool tha' may turn on it's master."

"Garrick. I'll give ya the choice. Kill her, an' let ma hav' her soul. O' kill her an' let her serve as an undead. Ya captured her. The rite ta death? Ya's."

"Answer wit' the state ya leave her skull in."
(Despair)
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 A glance to Garrick was offered.

"Gilded cage - hardly. Fit to leave whenever I wished - I knew the day would come, you hatred bound lizard. Sin is sin - the price will always be the same, regardless of the reasoning. If it were cage, I would not of seen you once. I accepted my fate the day your name escaped my lips."

Cracked ribs screeched in agony as she stood up - capped knees yelled out in utter pain. Legs shaken - Mosa would face the dragon one last time, worse for wear.

T'was unfortunate, but it was time Mosa paid the betrayer's due.

"Face me - then, Garrick. You've heard the man - my recompense has come, I know you want the toll for my sin."

(Mosa)
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 Garrick would pace steadily towards Mosa as he grit his teeth, meeting the umbretarn occultist face to face as he stared down the woman that had given him up for her own safety. Somewhere in the distant confines of the back of his mind, the barest pangs of sympathy were suffocated by a boiling rage only motivated onwards by the glimmering reika of the handprint that adorned his chest; by the cursed black pearl of the amulet that lay about his neck.

No, all the drake saw was the flame, Mosa was barely there. A silhouette amongst walls of fire, a shadow playing against a wall from an ever burning bonfire.

"Come then. You will die on the battlefield. A more honorable death than a traitor deserves, but the snow will have its blood one way or another. My gratitude, Lord Ultovex, for allowing me this task. "

The fire drakan would waste no more words, beckoning for the umbretarn occultist to follow and meet her fatewith an idle flick of his molten claws.
(Garrick)
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 Marching towards the gallows - Mosa continued down the slope alongside the hate imbued magmatic warrior. There was a certain cartharsis to this.

Facing death straight in the face, Mosa held up her hands. There wasn't much to do - save face the drakan down upon the white, battered snow.

"Go wild - Garrick, I would be sickened otherwise. Let's see the pyroclastic flow of your hate, again."

A small apology offered to Dario, as the woman approached the burning executioner.

Twas not axe, nor noose but sword would do - the fate she faced - she faced ready. Accepting.
(Mosa)
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Garrick would stare down the traitor from across the field with unyielding, molten eyes as he steadily dredged his black blade from the burn marred leather rungs that lined his back plate, gusts of steam rising from below his feet with each burning step as he growled with rage. Focusing upon the battered occultist with eyes that betrayed not the slightest fleck of mercy, the drake would clutch his blade tightly between his emerald, cracked scaled palms as he pointed the sword's tip directly at the woman's torso.

"I thought about this moment for quite some time. What I'd do when presented with the opportunity to make good on my promise. To follow through on one of my vendettas. I feared that when the time finally came, my blade would grow heavy in my hand and mercy would seize my heart."

Spitting a glob of boiling fluid to the snow, steam would rise in a steady cloud as the drake swung his sword in a widearc, trails of fire melting the powdery frost into slush.

"But, looking at you now? Staring down my blade? All I see is kindling. Make your peace Mosa, it will be the last."
(Garrick)
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 Mosa exclaims, "Come - The traitor's toll is due, Garrick!"


 The battle was not a drawn out affair. Not like in the swamps, where the fates had offered Mosa a fair chance against the drake. Brutalized and broken, shattered ribs impeding her constitution, each brutal blow of the drake swordsman's heavy blade was delivered with vengeful precision to cut the remaining fight out of the woman bit by bit. Smashing the weight of the hammered nyeshk down with bone crunching force against the woman's legs to bring her to her knees, the drake would catch Mosa by her throat with his burning, cracked scale palm before lifting her up to his full height of six and a half feet, barely giving the occultist enough air passage to breathe with the tightness of his grip.

The fire drakan stared directly into Mosa's eyes with his own, molten amber motes glaring with silent fury into the woman's without the slightest bit of yielding, the smallest amount of regret or apology. Such things had been burnt away by the passionate fury he borefor the traitor; for the woman that had stolen his freedom of passage and nearly taken his life with but a few whispered words. Imprisonment or not, there were costs for betrayal.

And the lord said it best. Everyone betrays ya'.

"Any final words to whisper? A plea? A pointless node of information in exchange for your life? A practical joke? Or will you meet death in silence, like you should have remained."

(Garrick)
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 Upon her knees, Mosa would be faced with the opportunity to speak. to which Mosa would see fit to respond.

"That fire will turn you to ash along with this island- just as it will to my next form, in time. Strike me down, Garrick - extract your due and wait for your fate."

A moment passed - before she opened up once more. "A joke, Garrick."

Silence from the woman, as she waited for the end of her life - this was the future she had envisioned, so no objections to her fate were had.

Apologies were only offered to Dario - for what her future self would cause him. For the despair that her fate she imagined would bring him.

Regardless; This was the due that must be paid.
(Mosa)
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"Why, that's the dream Mosa."

The drake would pierce the woman's throat with his glowing hot claws, blood spattering about the white snow as with a bulging vein upon Garrick's forehead he would thrust his three jagged appendages into Mosa's throat and out through the back in a vicious impalement. Staring her down as he glanced directly into her eyes. Crimson ichor poured down his cracked scaled palms as his fiery amber motes glared without err, never leaving her view as he watched the life leave her eyes.

"Is it difficult to speak now? To tell Elyon and Miyo of my intentions? Do you think they can hear you now? So many questions, and yet you have so little time to talk. Worry not, the idle patter of your blood against the snow is more than loud enough for me. I think I know my answer. "

Pulling his jagged talons out from Mosa's throat, the drake would maintain his chokehold upon her with his remaining hand as he steadily lowered her to her feet, settling her straight up without allowing her to fall as he offered the woman one last grim expression of determination. No amusement or callous joy occupied his visage, only the ruthless calling of the flames of vengeance.

"Next life, talk less. Let me help."

The drake would remove his hand from Mosa's neck with a brutal motion, jagged claws burning with glowing heat as he proceeded to tear out her throat with his talons. Life ichor would splatter across the solemn snowfield as he finished his task, flicking drops of boiling blood off towards the ground without another thought.
(Garrick)
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 There wasn't anything to say.

There upon the cold snow, Mosa would feel her throat burned, torn and otherwise cut by wicked talons, cursed by hate. The woman felt nothing - a mercy afforded to her by the last of whatever adrenaline ran through her system - though that too sunk into the blood stained snow - alongside viscera.

So - there was nothing that could be said. Just the faint, whispering madness in her mind and the dying light of the world.

For how long would that light remain dead? She could only hope forever. Though Mosa knew that would not be the case.

Caught again, in the chains that bound her - tis misfortune, but that was her life. From then...

Until the moment she lived.
(Mosa)
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 You stole Mosa's Orichalcum Scale Amulet.
Orichalcum Scale Amulet [PENDANT]
"A glimmering amulet of sunkissed metal, luminescent in its magic conducing properties and idle shine. The pendant in the center appears to have been shaped into a single, golden scale, a chain of glimmering orichalcum linking around it with care. The makers mark of three draconic talons curved around a single coin is stamped firmly into its back."
Boost: +2force

 Despair says, "A shame she was a traitor. She was a cute kid."

 Garrick would rip the amulet he'd forged from the woman's bloodied remnants of a neck with his claws as he stared down upon the corpse, gritting his teeth as he flipped the pendant over in his hands before tucking it away in one of the many pockets of his navy cotton engineer's coat. A memento; a reminder of his vengeance. A name crossed off his list.

Turning towards the Ultovexian nightmare, he'd nod steadily as he bowed his head to Sors with a flourish of his bloodied claws, splattering a bit of Mosa's blood across the snow with the gesture.

"Lord Ultovex, your tribute. One that I hate, sadly I couldn't find much of anyone that I bore affection for. Her throat is a bit....sore, but the corpse is otherwise intact."
(Garrick)
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 Despair looks like he's staring into Lirien's eyes. But he's actually staring at the murder going on.
(Despair)
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Garrick says, "Worthy of learning riftmancy, and truly quite cathartic I must say."
 Garrick says, "Who'd have thought vengeance would taste like cinnamon."

 The Ultovexian would finish his staring forwards, floating instead towards the snowy way ahead. He would pass by the side of that which was in front of him and instead make his way towards the body that was newly collected. Dusk and Aurum would stare down at it as, in moments, occultic needles would be driven down into the side of her head. The brain would be punctured, not destroyed, but already starting on the process of changing it.

"First, le's remove her emotions. She won't need tha' no mor'."

"Ya hav' met ya tribute requirement. I'll teach ya riftomancy."
(Despair)
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They had hardly been here a few minutes really, and already someone had already been killed before them. Was it surprising? Not really.

Did they care..? Same answer.

The cosmic energy of Eas-òrdugh flowing just beneath her skin. It was easy to dismiss something like this. Though now sienna eyes watch those Occultic needles, small interest shown.

"Huh.."
(Lirien Zanders)
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 "No worthier man on the island to learn from, you honor me Lord Ultovex."

The fire drakan would offer Sors a fanciful bow with a cross of right bloodied claw across the black plate of his cuirass, teeth idly clacking together as he glanced over the process of the body's preparation. Once he might have felt something, a sense of distaste for the display or some revulsion for the cruel acts he had committed.

Once.

But the drakan had been reforged upon this mountain by the hatred he bore. He was not the man that he'd been in Gehenna all those years ago, when his greatest concern was having enough liquor to drink and weapons to forge. No, the flames of hatred had long since consumed him, and he had never felt quite so alive.

A cruel smirk spread across the drake's visage as he picked at his teeth with one of his bloodied claws, the taste of iron upon his reptilian tongue as he nodded contently, a sense of relief having come over him at having made good on his blood lust for one day.

"I only regret not hunting her down sooner."
(Garrick)
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 The Ultovexian would nod.

"We will begin ya lessons soon. But first, I require fer ya ta bring ma some pieces o' wood. Ya mus' study fer ya homework so ya can betta grasp the theory o' rift."

His focus however, seemed to be more focused on the corpse below. The occultic needles would be lunged into the brain. They moved around, breaking the skin as they would aim for certain parts. The frontal lobe. The amydala. Sors did not require undead that were not willing to serve his purpose.

To him, the dead were slaves to do as he commanded.

With the occultism set in place almost similar to a mind control device, occultic needles would move lower. They would move to Mosa's neck beginning to sew up the flesh. No new flesh was generated so no real drain was needed. Instead he only closed what was already there before lowering the claw down to the corpse's head.

"She'll b placed in a form o' sufferin'."
(Despair)
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 Garrick would nod steadily, mulling over the Ultovexian Nightmare's words with a light smile. Perhaps it was the contentedness of a fresh kill, the ease it brought upon the searing emerald reika that adorned his chest, or perhaps the black pearl that lined his form. Yet, he felt like he'd just gotten a full night's fresh sleep, and all he needed to do was tear out a snitch's throat.

Maybe he had some issues.

"With certainty, I'd have been surprised if there wasn't some good old fashioned book work. One's mind must be as sharp as their claws, as they say. I shall go acquire some then. I'll return shortly."

With another bow of his head, the drake would depart with a flash of his toothy smile.
(Garrick)
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 Garrick says, "Six pieces of paper have been acquired."
 Garrick says, "Through....unscrupulous means."
 Despair says, "Hand one."
 They'd never actually seen Necromancy at work, their mother being so against it in their youth, Oscuri or not. It was likely one of the reasons they had initially blacklined so young.

They weren't sure of the mechanics of how it worked, though it wouldn't stop them from watching.

"It's something isn't it... Necromancy? This is my first time truly seeing it, that I remember at least."
(Lirien Zanders)
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 Garrick would hand Lord Ultovex one piece, claw to claw.
(Garrick)
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{Item} You picked up Garrick's Riftmancy Study. Dropped by Despair.
The Ultovexian would not look up towards the paper. Instead, a rift would open near him, the blue eye staring towards the location it began. A skeletal hand would reach through the rift, and it would begin to copy notes from the Ultovexian's rift tome onto the page for Garrick to study the theories of Rift.

Dusk and Aurum remained on the body. Slowly he nodded his head as his eyes closed. Her items were still on the body so he deemed to use it as a catalyst for more easy calling down the soul from the astral plane.

"Yes. This is Necromancy. The art o' reanimatin' the dead so tha' they can serve the livin'."

His focus however, was on searching the stars. The chains would reach up to them, locating the soul that was uniquely Mosa's. And the moment he did, he would wrap the chains around it and start to yank it from it's spot in the lifestream.

To yank it back down to him.
(Despair)
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[00:05] They couldn't see that search of the cosmos with their own eyes, though it wouldn't stop them from slowly putting a few of the pieces together.

"Hm. Seems awfully useful."

Now wonder Azrael had made it or something, the sly dog.
(Lirien Zanders)
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[00:07] Garrick would watch the skeletal hand with fascinating as it sprung from the nearby rift and began to scribble away on the piece of paper, his jaw idly dropping with just a bit of excitement and wonder at the application of the two dark arts hand in hand. While the drake was no aspiring necromancer; he was far too prideful and arrogant to believe he required anymore than his own blade in a battle, the interplay of the two lifestream straining arts brought a sense of spiteful satisfaction to the drake.

He'd raise a middle claw up towards the sky at Ryujin. Suck it dragon god.

Allowing the notes for his homework to be completed, the drake would finally clasp the beginning agenda within his bloodied claws, only lightly staining it with the largely dried blood that covered his hands from having torn out Mosa's throat. These things happen.

"I will not disappoint you Lord Ultovex. I shall dedicate my full abilities to the study of this art in spite of the false dragon god. The lifestream will weep from my claws."
(Garrick)
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[00:12] The blue eye of the staff stared at Lirien. "I like this one. It is useful. I forget did I get ya name 'fore? But ya. The focus o' mage should b power. An' utility? Usefulness? Tha' is power."

The skeletal hand would take quite a bit to write. It was no speedster but it would very quickly begin to note the important information, summaries, that sort of thing. The paper would disappear into the rift, appearing only once the Ultovexian could focus fully on the rift once more. Blackscreen for when he gets it exactly.

Instead, his focus was on the chains. He had taken the soul. He forcefully dragged Mosa from the heavens, from the astral plan, forcing her back into the body which she had just lost. Her soul would know pain and irritation, but more then that?

Her will would be taken. No long would she be able to resist the Ultovexian's commands.

"Good. Dedicate everything ta it. Make it tha' center o' ya focus, Garrick. Ya earned it."

"Awaken, undead."
(Despair)
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 Garrick would watch the raising with fascination as he crossed his emerald, cracked scaled arms over the black plate of his cuirass, puffing lightly on one of his raggedy cigarettes with a light clicking of his teeth as he blew a steady trail of smoke off towards the distant horizon. Lord Ultovex's words rung steadily within his head amongst the euphoria of the recent killing, a sense of boundless, fiery ambition welling up in his breast as he held his molten eyes upon the display.

It was his handiwork after all. His hunt. He should revel in it.

Determination. Complete focus. Absolute dedication. The drake had tried to live by these mantras already since he'd embraced the flames of hatred in full. Now, the very same would guide him upon his path to master the truest form of spatial magic, that which was not held back by petty morality or weak affinity to the lifestream.

The drake was content.

"Oh right, Syril. Short story, kidnapped Mosa, killed her. The end."
(Garrick)

Walking away from the raising of the fresh Ultovexian undead with a sense of daze, the drake would idly thumb his claw over the black pearl of his amulet as he crunched the snow beneath his black sabatons in an aimless passage. Despite the chilliness of the evening, he felt immensely warm, an odd sense of satiation as if from an itch that was long unscratched. Without even consciously thinking of it, the bony, skinless wings that had proven so elusive to him would stretch out behind him with only a quiet plodding of his own boiling blood against the snow. Steam rose with each step as the wings began to grow coated in his fiery, ichorous blood, a subtle flame beginning to trail along their expanse as he paced forth without aim upon the mountain he called home.

He had hunted as a dragon, found one that had wronged him, and tore out her throat with his claws. The drake was still coming to terms with the reality of the situation, but he couldn't help but smile to himself as he glanced down at the dried blood that adorned his jagged appendages. For all his talk and vengeful bragadacio, this was the first true step he'd taken to fulfilling his furious ambition, to crossing the names of those that had wronged him off his list. Mosa's blood on his hands, the amulet he had seized from her, they were concrete proof that he had it in him to kill those that stood in his way. That it felt GOOD to do so.

A wide, draconic grin spread across Garrick's face as he mulled over it, staring off the edge of the mountain down towards the distant south of Agartha, the home of rot and stagnancy that had grown more and more repulsive to him over the years.

Clasping his black pearled amulet tight, his eyes would glint with a spark of inspiration as his cursed adornment brought him a beautiful vision. An island consumed by endless flame from coast to coast, a sea of boundless, sifting ash that swallowed the decay of the depraved land whole. As he marveled at the mad dream, his bony wings would burn brighter and fuller, the embers becoming a bustling fire as he stood upon the edge of the world, that which separated the man he was from the man he'd chosen to become. The Ultovexian Nightmare had accepted him as a student of riftmancy, would guide him down the path to tearing passages between Ifraheim and the living realm to bring his vision to life. All it had costed is a traitor's life, no true toll at all for him. Only for her.

Seeing the amulet's vision, enjoying the euphoria of having finally given in to the bloodlust of his reika handprint's motivation, the drake couldn't do anything bark out in mirthful, maddened laughter.

They couldn't see what he saw, but they would. Soon enough.