Garflex was not exactly in love with the idea of waiting for
Shane and Urumi to return. To be clear, he hated the act of waiting
in general, especially when things seemed to be escalating. The
conjurer had no choice but to busy himself with a perplexed mind,
going over the victories and defeats of the past, trying to gauge
what outcome was in store for the entire group.
Rha'qa, on the other hand, had found plenty of foolhardy
adventurers to play at Triple Triad. His deck was deceptive, holding
few rare cards, and yet still besting the seemingly stacked odds. He
was at twelve wins when he glanced over his shoulder at his traveling
companion.
"'Ey Garfy, come on and play a hand. No challenge with these
mooks, ya." The mi'qote monk patted the stool next to him,
grinning madly.
Having been annoyed by Rha'qa's smooth transition from dire
situation to all around lollygagger, Garflex scowled back, but with
the edge of a smile. "I would if you weren't known for cheating
the game, sir monk."
From the sprawling tables and chairs to the spiraling stone steps
at the back wall, Dragonhead's raucous tavern smelled of mead,
roasted lamb's meat, and a particular brand of body odor born of
strife and war. Underneath the aroma was the constant chatter and
banter of lancers, sharing a pint and the battle stories to go with
it. Above all, there was an unspoken oath of honor, broken only by
the vilest of transgressors.
Rha'qa frowned back at the lalafell, suddenly noting the odd
quiet, and then the approach of tall, looming shadows of particularly
cross elezen men and women. When he took a look at the scene behind
him, he shot his eyes forward, instantly recognizing the countenance
of death glares abound.
"Cheatin' lot, are ye?" said the tallest and most
unfriendly-looking one of the bunch.
Rha'qa was already shaking his head and cursing Garflex for
having him dull his knuckles for a simple tavern brawl. "I don't
cheat, ya. Just my friend here bein' a right and good cunt is all."
The white mage was beside himself with joy, already having taken
a seat at the back of the hall, a most anticipating audience.
"Better safe than sorry, ere we sully the grounds of Dragonhead
proper," said one of the slender women, taking spear in-hand.
"It's just a building. I'm sure we can--"
The fwap of spear rushing against the wind sent Rha'qa's
reflexes on end, and within the twitching of an ear, he had bound
himself off his stool and atop an adjacent table.
The spear had shattered his former seat.
He took stock: six elezen; four male, two female, all armed
with a lancer's skill and weapon of choice.
They were upon him, all charging at once with spears going for
the kill. They certainly did take honor seriously, even over a Triple
Triad game.
The monk closed his eyes, feeling out the motions of his erratic
- and likely drunk - opponents, rather than using the fullness of
his abilities. If anything, he would make a game out of this to spite
Garflex.
Six spears, all in seemingly random directions, all coming in at
the same time. The monk tapped into training outside of his school,
and what seemed to be an accepted end to his life turned around
almost completely.
Every lance felt to have stricken true, stopping somewhere
between mortal flesh.
But the mi'qote's uncanny agility said otherwise.
One spear was caught in the underside of his knee, two in his
armpits, two his hands, and the metal of the longest spear right
between his teeth. Though awkward in his new position, oddly sprawled
out like a majestic Shroud deer, he seemed completely in control of
his body.
Lost in a difficult place of stupefaction and frustration, the six
lancers tried wrenching their weapons from the clutches of their
opponent. When pulling out seemed an impossible option they tried
left and right, up and down, availing them little more than further
resistance from the monk. The makeshift holes were at once too tight
and too soft to be suitably fought against.
Too late the realization dawned upon the lancers, as Rha'qa
began to spin against the grips of his assailants. Like toothpicks
caught in the teeth of a whirling, shaking head, every spear flung
outward to random directions about the hall, their steel tips
supplanting stone wall.
The six denizens of Dragonhead were too dumbfounded to remember
that they were attacking someone, at which point the monk punched and
kicked his way through them in short order.
Neck punch to the tallest one - for being an instigator.
Twin snakes to the shoulder blades for the lad - a lesson for
hanging with the wrong crowd.
A demolishing heel to the lower spine for the middle-aged female -
you should have continued your training as a black mage.
A true strike to the gut of the other female - because you
should expect no mercy on any battlefield, especially those that you
make for yourself.
A sweep into dragon kick for the eldest male - just retire
already, old man.
It did not take much searching to find the last lancer making for
the exit. Rha'qa shoulder tackled him right on out the double
doors, breaking its hinges - a lesson for those onlookers outside.
The fury of battle quelled, the monk breathed in with both fists
stylistically extended before him, held for a few seconds, and
breathed out, unwinding whatever tightness remained in his joints.
Every skirmish, no matter the size, had a lesson to be learned and
one to be taught.
He reopened his eyes, a tinge of ire in his expression. "That
wasn't funny."
Garflex was as shameless in his enjoyment as he knew he would be.
"Yes. It was."
"No. It wasn'it."
"It was to me, and that's all that matters."
The monk looked sidelong at the white mage. "Haurchefant isn't
gonna like this, ya. Second time we started something in hear."
"I had to do something keep myself entertained."
Garflex joined his companion's side, knowing without words that
they were about to take leave of the towering hall.
"I was right entertained just now. Did you have to ruin it for
me?"
"You already know the answer to that one."
When both Vagrants exited the hall, still exchanging banter
between wit and anger, they were greeted with more than the
unconscious body Rha'qa had sent clamoring out the door. Someone
was kneeling over said body.
A... man? Perhaps. Mortal to be sure, but greatly removed from the
norms in Eorzea. Horns in the shape of a ram's broke through dusky
auburn flesh, and adorned between them was a head of smooth black
hair running down steel-clade shoulders. Aside from the thick, burly
appeal of the man, one immediately noticed the great handle of a
thick, coal-colored blade at his back.
Before either of them could form words, he stood up, wearing an
expression that betrayed no particular sense of alarm, but also
denoted lacking warmth. "Yeah, definitely them," he muttered to
himself. "Would you boys happen to know where my son is?"
Garflex and Rha'qa exchanged a look, shrugging.
The white replied, shaking his head. "Your son have a name?"
The dragon-like man rolled his shoulders and stroked his chin with
a thumb, making his many-barbed armor creak and scrape against
itself.
His expression brightened. "Ah, yes. Of course. His name is
Shane."
Snows so diluted to mist, yet so adamant
along the harsh winds could detract any casual stroll, any willful
trudge through Coerthas. Night or day, it was nigh-impossible to tell
which with gusts so white and clouds so gray. It was a time of
withheld turmoil in the troubled lands of Eorzea, soon to unfold a
mighty, shadowy torrent.
After treading deep snows, braving a number of native hostile
creatures, and assuring his allies of the relevance of his planning,
Shane was confident that perishing just beyond his destination was
the least of his worries. If he could not make it just past the Gates
of Judgement, he could confirm the very real threat to the integrity
of the realm. Yes, it seemed a trifle thing simply to see with his
own eyes, but he was a scholar first, and warrior second. Saving
Eorzea meant studying it and all that could put it in harm's way.
He tried explaining this to Urumi during the readying process, but
it fell on deaf ears more suited to battle trumpets and riposted
swords. Where Shane explained findings of a deeper conflict, the
paladin could ill see more than a possible enemy in need of a sword
to the jugular.
As the elezen scholar pulled the cloak further upon his shoulders,
he understood why.
The Gates were open when they arrived. For a point of interest so
heavily kept under surveillance, it was an eerily quiet site to see
when no guards harried their arrival. Considering the recent
developments in draconian assaults and Ishgardian politics, one would
be hard-pressed to excuse such a massive drop in the only vanguard
for a skyward paradise.
The wind was too thick, and would drown out words to put to the
phenomenon, so they opted to share a cautionary nod and venture forth
through the Gates of Judgement.
Too soon, the pair would find that the ancient passage was so
aptly named.
The misty snows were less thick along the bridge, being dissipated
by a newly risen heat. The closer they got, the more intense the
strange humidity grew, somehow cutting through what should have been
the coldest season in Coerthas.
The answer to the question on both their tongues was a sea of fire
atop streaks of fresh gore. Bodies strewn in pieces, flung to the
edges of the bridge like refuse tossed out a window. What should have
been a battle was a massacre drowned out by a squarely superior
force.
With the falling snow an afterthought, and the strong winds eerily
ceased, Urumi and Shane removed the cowls of their cloaks.
"These are... the guards?" The scholar could not get close
enough to immediately tell what lay beneath the seething fire, but he
recognized the armor and spears of men who once barred him from
entry.
Urumi's augmented plate greaves were able to snuff out some of
the flames and reveal the charred visage of an elezen female. Even
with most of her facial faculties burnt away, it was clear by the
tenacious expression that only a defensive could be mounted in
response to whatever caused this. "This is the work of a dragon."
"Like Bahamut?" Asked Shane, standing and stroking his chin
hairs.
The lalafell shook his head, hardened sobriety molding into his
features. "Far worse, I fear."
The scholar did not seem particularly sullen by the thought. "It
doesn't get much worse than that."
"Not as powerful as Bahamut..."
"Then what have we to--"
"... but traveling in numbers to far succeed him," finished
Urumi, his gaze now taking to the sky. "This one dragon is only a
few steps below an elder primal, but there are far more than just
this one."
A shiver ran down Shane's spine, and it was not from the errant
cold still present. "You can tell by just looking at them?"
"You never took Bahamut's flare breath head on." Urumi
closed his eyes, recollecting a personal trial. Though everyone of
Shane's crew had shared the fight against Bahamut, only Urumi and
Sean could say they withstood the full brunt of his power. "Even
with shield upraised, standing upon self-made hallowed ground, I knew
there was no reason for me to have survived such an assault. And
now," he looked to Shane. "Now something worse is coming. Look
around and tell me what you see."
The elezen did so, at first perplexed by the suggestion, and then
recalling that the paladin's perspective in battle far outstripped
his own. A dragon nearly as powerful as Bahamut could have burned
these bodies enough to leave no recognizable features, armor, flesh,
and all. All of this, without exercising a fraction of its full
strength. The realm's citizenry would have one believe that a
dragon's tenacity and animalistic traits outweighed any sense of
judgment, but if Bahamut and his ilk were any indication, they were
all but senseless in their fury.
"It's a message. A warning." Shane's eyes went heavesward
as well, now aware of what Urumi was looking for.
When the shriek of a dragon came not seconds later, both knew
there was no turning back from the trap that they had unknowingly
sprung.
Shane opened his codex, quickly scribbling in another pact with
Eos with his quill. The aetherial fairy fluttered into existence,
heralded by the sparkle and shimmer of benevolent tidings.
The lalafell whispered the age old oath of self-defense and
steeled himself for war.
Dravanian, both knew the instant they saw it. Red scales,
demon-like horns, a long snout of a bloodied fangs, and a
breath-taking wingspan that buffeted them back a step upon its
arrival. Its long neck reared back, and like a cauldron of pure
magma, it brewed a sinister fire.
Even mildly prepared, the two could only defend from the swath of
concentrated hells that spewed from the beast's mouth. Their thick
cloaks were burned away instantly, and their flesh was protected by
Eos's fey covenant, a magicked, unseen barrier that prevented the
full harm of the attack. Even so, both paladin and scholar were left
breathless by the choking heat.
The dragon flew onward, and started circling back around, already
gargling up another great gout of flame, intending to make another
message to those with plans to enter Ishgard.
Shane and Urumi shared another nod, the situation having so
quickly and completely turned dire. Once Shane had an adloquium
encircled on the two of them, they sprinted to the other end of the
bridge, knowing the intent of the attack was to prevent them from
going further.
The dragon cut them off with a wall of flame just beyond the
steps into the silent city. It was thick enough to melt through any
armor, and just thin enough for them to see how close they had come.
This draconic assailant was as malefic as the stories claimed
Dravanians to be.
Elezen and lalafell looked back, knowing the dragon was on its
way a final time to finish the deed it had started on the gate
guards.
"Eos, illuminate," said Shane, aught resigned to the obvious
fate. The miniscule, pale apparition lofting at his shoulder nodded
to his command. Complimenting its obedience was a spherical dome,
alight with sacred protective magicks produced from the open codex in
the elezen's fingers.
Urumi understood, as he always did when death seemed to be of a
certainty.
No Vendor ever went down without weapons raised and full efforts
known to their enemy.
The monstrous tyrant's incoming form and menacing roar brought
the very environment to a trembling kneel. The day's prey had no
longer provided suitable challenge, and it was time to end its
struggle for life. One more rearing back of its head, one more
conjuring of fire from its throat...
But the wave of heat never came, the grip of death stayed by a
sudden turn of fate.
A rapid, unseen impact collided against the dragon's spine,
proceeded by a white hot, spirit-like flow of energy. The intended
fires slid back down the neck of the beast, and something like the
choking of suffering resounded upon every present ear.
Another blow was struck, and this time it was the viewable force
of a great stone from somewhere high and beyond the bridge, followed
up by thrashing winds from seemingly every direction.
Shane caught sight of something atop the dragon's back, the one
who had struck the first blow. He was putting it all together with
his experiences. It was familiar, and welcome, yet deadly with its
intent.
The dragon was fading from view, put down by the assault,
flailing in the cloak of snow for life that could not be reached. One
could pinpoint the moment its last breath was taken.
What Shane had seen bounded off the dragon just before its fatal
plummet to the depths below and landed at a kneel before him.
Both he and Urumi raised brows at the revelation of none other
than Rha'qa, once again defying directives.
"Thank me later, ya? We got some ground to cover before we're
in the clear." He swiped a thumb over his nose, walked passed the
two of them, and appraised the wall of fire that the now dead dragon
had breathed onto the entrance. His arms swept out in all directions,
gathering force and momentum with each wave, each flourish, and each
connection to his core. In a final calculated move, he extended his
palm in the practiced form of the monk's true strike, instantly
extinguishing the fires before him. He glanced over his shoulder at
paladin and scholar. "Got some friends wanting to meet you, Shane."
Neither party had objections.
Only questions.
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