Meet the Death Court

[Mystic Dragon]

((So first, a quick introduction. The Death Court is here to cause mayhem. It will not be talked out of it. If you want to attack a Death Court dragon on your post, go for it. There are literally hundreds of them.

This thread has a beginning, middle, and end. When I post for certain characters (Faust and Naxi'im) I will be moving the plot along. At some point the Death Court will be departing.

If you're unfamiliar of how to do combat in RP, then let me know and I can give you a quick run down. The most important thing to note right now is that the "rule of fun" is in place. If what you are doing is going to impact the enjoyment of others (ie. destroy the entire Court and leave nothing for the rest of us) then it would go against this rule.

Here is a quick reference guide for the characters I will be controlling:
The whole dang Death Court
Naxi'im = blue-green dragon with big red horns, King of the Death Court (formerly known as Pretentiouth, if anyone at the hatching might recognize that name)
Hexeth = blood court gold queen of the Death Court
Nemondath = dark court gold queen of the Death Court
Asimath = light court green queen of the Death Court
Takith = death court black queen of the Death Court
Faust = his usual annoying self
Striga = Shy's precious little girl
Thayer, Bane, and Sabrilla = the Tris'Hath peeps

If you have any questions, hit me up. I am here to make this thread happen!))

“They’re here!” The shrill squawk of noise came from a slight figure who popped into the air above the sands. Just long enough to deliver its message, before vanishing again. A few seconds later, another of the downy-haired, white winged figures appeared.

“They’re here!”

“They’re here!”

Pop, pop, in and out. The Pigeons began appearing one after another, their high-pitched voices overlapping, trailing off into mad giggles.

“What’s going on,” Doctor Schroeder demanded. He fixed Shy with a disapproving look. Yet before the geneticist could answer, a new sound filled the air. A wailing, whining keen with no beginning and no end. And then the sky darkened.

It was not a supernatural source that stole Shy’s sun from the sky. It was the shadow of hundreds of dark wings, all of them appearing within seconds of each other. The dragons appeared and circled overhead, their voices raised in barks and bellows to each other as they coordinated their appearance. They did not begin to descend upon the lab structure until five shapes blinked into view near the sands.

Three of the dragons looked familiar, bearing the markings of Light, Dark and Blood Courts but… twisted. The Blood Court gold had too many spikes and the spines on her neck of a Dark Court. The Light Court green supported a crown of spikes atop her head and spiky tips to her crest that shouldn’t have been there. The Dark Court gold looked the most normal of the trio, though she too bore extra spikes and spines that didn’t seem right. And then there was the little black one that followed after them. The fledgling trimmed in blood red claws, with a bloody crown of spikes atop her head and riding down her spine. This last one most resembled the dragons in the sky.

The four dragonesses approached the sands, then parted, leaving room for the last of their number to stalk forward with the grace and poise of a hunting feline.

The blue dragon with green wingsails was smaller than the Court dragons, yet his presence exuded control and power. The curve of two great, red horns protruded from his forehead, one of which had been roughly severed halfway along. He prowled forward, head and body low, until he stood on the sands, in the midst of Shy and his patrons. Then he stood up straight, and his scarred lips pulled up in a mutilated grin.

My dear, dear Shy, the blue dragon intoned, his rich mental threads reaching out to all those in attendance. He wanted an audience, and they would witness him whether they wanted to or not. I was so hurt when I did not receive a direct invitation from you. I had to go out of my way to learn the details of this prestigious clutch of yours. Thankfully… the blue dragon trailed off, raising a foreclaw as another Pigeon popped into the air nearby. The creature wailed as the claw brushed past it, then went streaking off into the sky. I have my sources. Now then, I assume you’ve been an absolutely abysmal host and haven’t even introduced me to your friends. So allow me to reintroduce myself. The blue dragon’s grin grew wider, the scarred side of his lip stretching and wrinkling from the strain. He stood with his foreclaws together, wings half-spread in a powerful pose. I am King Naxi’im, and this is my Death Court.

With the introduction made, the airborne dragons descended en masse toward the ground, screeching and bellowing and howling all across the labs. They landed on buildings, on trees, on the ground, and some even crashed down around the stands. The four dragonesses surrounding Naxi’im hissed, baring their fangs in eager displays to those now trapped in their seats.

And now, dear Shy, I will be taking my new hatchling. And I hope you don’t mind, but I promised my Court that they could play for a while.

Shy stared up at the skies, at the arrival of court dragons twisted into darker, sharper forms. They were- beautiful, and while the bassy voice was hard to ignore, in the beginning, he could not help but ignore it.

What were these beautiful creatures that were arriving at his Labs? A stunning mix and hybrid of his Light, Blood, Dark. Had he not done the same, tried to build upon the base of the Vella Crean?

Was this what the Oracle had meant, about genetics, about lineage being the way back to the Vella Crean?

Stunned at the realization that it was not his lineage, but that of another, he caught the end.

Naxi’im. He knew that word. He knew what it meant, had heard it whispered in the aftermath of the Fool’s end. The Death Court.

Shy’s eyes, that had been so glassy with admiration and avarice for this dark horned creatures, darkened into amusement. Into arrogance.

“Shy-” Ari started, standing alongside him.

“Find the Fool,” he murmured.

Shy stood, arched a brow, and smiled.

“Dr. Schroeder, Director Kutoth, Van,” the last was a purr. “I apologize for the unplanned… guests we have this afternoon.” He glanced at the doctor and the director who might require protection, at the Mad King who would, hopefully, demonstrate his skills.

He stared at the blue dragon with red horns who claimed dominion over a hybrid line born of his projects. He dared to falsify his claims as a candidate, and then interrupt this glorious hatching? A day attended by the strongest and brightest of minds in the Nexus? A humiliation.

No.

“You are welcome to try,” he challenged.

[Mystic Dragon]

Bane stood in the stands, every nerve ending on edge as dragons filled the skies with screams and howls. Thayer stood beside him, one hand on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. Bane realized, with the sudden clarity of one caught with their proverbial trousers down, that Thayer had no armour. No real weapons on his person. He was dressed to be an envoy of Tris'Hath and he looked the part. If not for Bane's curse, he would be in a similar predicament. Instead, he had the protection while his brother stood beside him, vulnerable and unprotected.

And down on the soft, white sands, Sabrilla screamed as the Death Court King advanced.

Thayer took a step forward.

"No," Bane said, putting a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. "Bubble."

"What? No. I'm going down there for her," Thayer snapped back.

"I will get her. Bubble," Bane commanded.

For a few long, agonizing seconds, the brothers stared at each other. Bane would not risk putting Thayer in harm's way again. He had the strength and the ability, whereas Thayer had prepared for a quiet day of socializing. Eventually, this fact seemed to cross between them without a word being spoken. Thayer dropped his gaze first.

"Fine," he growled, taking his hand off the hilt of his sword. "But you'd better keep her safe."

The heir to the Dragon Throne took a step back, his hands moving through the intricate pattern of a spell as Bane launched himself forward, over the few unoccupied seats ahead of them in the stands.

"Waste of my abilities," Thayer muttered under his breath. Then, out loud, "Anyone who can't fight, come to me!"

With the last word spoken, a dome of iridescent red magic sprang up around the blonde heir. It extended ten feet around him in all directions, save underneath, and provided shelter as the Death Court dragons moved in on the trapped spectators.

Bane leapt into the air, hands moving through a quick gesture that called up a funnel of wind beneath him. Fabric snapped out behind him, his cloak pulled taught by the sudden vortex that carried him swiftly but gently to the sands below. He landed before the blue dragon who called himself Naxi'im and swept his hands through a new pattern. The dragon sucked in a deep breath. Bane swept his hands in an arc before him, and the glittering pale sands of the hatching grounds rose up at his command. A roar of noise and sudden brilliance from the other side of the wall of sand told Bane he'd acted just in time. The sand grew hot, glowing vibrant red beneath the onslaught of heat. As the blue dragon's fiery breath died away, the heat settled, and a translucent glassy wall stood in place of the sand Bane had summoned to his defense.

Behind him, Sabrilla screamed again, huddled around the body of her hissing golden queen.

"Get me out of here," she cried. "Get me out!"

[Trix]

(OOC: I'll just leave a message about what my people will be doing, it's nearing bedtime so the next time I'll be able to check will be tomorrow evening after work, by whoch time a lot will have been posted and I'll get too much information to participate again :p But anyway:)

Laedrys Trix and Quart were still sitting on their places in the stands when the other dragons appeared overhead. Even without proper knowledge of the Vella Crean courts, everyone with half a brain would realise these dragons were up to no good. As the leader made it's announcement, chaos errupted in the building. Quart jumped up, his only thought to go find Eeny and keep her safe. Taking stock of what he had on him, he realised he was hardly armed at all. He had a few throwing daggers fastened around his thigh and a leather belt he could maybe use like a whip.
Trix had a short flashback to the shadowling rebellion they had only recently been able to resolve. A mere human could do little against a dragon unless hope the dragon overlooked them and didn't see them as a threat. The dragons that had crashed the hatching would not know any of the people that came from offworld and she certainly wasn't one of the more elabroately dressed spectators of royalty. Maybe they could sneak toward the place where the hatchlings were eating their first meals.
"Frynod." she called mentally and hoped non of the dragons could hear the conversation, "Go protect the young ones. I'll try to come to you."
From outside, the relatively small (compared to all these Pernese sizes anyway) bright green dragoness replied: "I'll come get you."
She appeared and crushed quite a few benches, but hopefully didn't harm one of the spectators. Grabbing both her rider and the huntsman, she hopped into the Elsewhere again and brought them to where the hatchlings were where the three of them hit the floor in a tangle of limbs. Teleporting with two grown adults hanging on her arms was not something Frynd would attempt again any time soon.

(OOC: I don't really know where those hatchlings are, they could still be in that same area, in which case they'll try to lead them out and away from the invading dragons. Anyone is free to take over and lead this group to safety. Quart will be the best fighter among my characters. Eeny is usually fast on her feet, but she has a hatchling to carry, though I guess Frynod could probably help with that. Also, Lantessaman dragons don't have magic and she's only about twice the size of a horse, but she could ferry people to saftey, which will probably be Lantessama since she knows that place best)

[Shard]

Though Van was the first to stand and gird himself for an actual honest-to-the-gods fight, it was his daughter that acted.

Even at this distance, even with all the distractions, Devera's connection to the life around them was made somehow even stronger with the newly formed bond to her dragon.

"You dare approach our hatchlings?" she bellowed, causing Asantewaath to wince just slightly.

It was not the rushing of wings that caught anyone's attention, it was an incredibly sharp banging of hooves. Eight hooves, two horses bearing sharp teeth (turns out, yes, they were carnivorous) and ears flat back, burning red eyes, and what looked like steam coming off of their flanks, in fact. They were big, not anywhere near as large as the dragons circling in the sky, but they had it in their heads to charge the area. At first it looked as though they were joining the attack but then they seemed to be rounding up those in need of aid.

((OOC: if you feel that your character and their dragonet needs to be protected, fall in.))

The fierce steeds gave off screeching sounds, so completely un-horse-like it was more unnerving that they could make the noises at all.

Vaeden looked at his sister with slightly wide eyes, "wow, you really... don't want to let them go, do you," he muttered.

He caught her slightly snarky side-eye, but she said nothing more. That left her brother to utter a protective spell, and he thanked whatever stars existed in this non-space, that it worked here. He'd been informed that magic sometimes didn't work outside of its original space, after all. But it did: now there was a faintly mauve-colored dome around the steeds and their group. "We can escort them to somewhere... safe?" Vaeden called out, hoping that one of the locals or any kind of security was on hand.

@ .... anyone!

[Trix]

@Shard: cool! Consider my group in your custody

[Yakima]

Tiale had returned to Aenon and Jarel, Nanyehith in her arms. She was talking to her two boyfriends with excitement and the joy of a new mother with a child. Jarel had his arm around her, as proud as if the baby dragon was his baby.

Randaril was nearly thrown to the sands in Philippe's over-exuberant tackle-hug. "I knew you could do it! I can't wait to rub this in K'man's arrogant face!" Randaril looked at his brother blankly. Philippe sighed dramatically. "He wanted me to Impress a bronze, remember." Ril continued to stare while Philippe grew increasingly annoyed. "You. Bonded. A. Bronze!" he cried, gesturing exuberantly at Menelith next to him.

"It's not a Pernese bronze, though," Randaril said with a slight smirk.

"I hate you..." Philippe cried, throwing up his hands and starting to walk away.

The arrival of the dragons instantly changed Philippe's mood. Randaril also turned as his hatchling cowered next to him, whimpering. Faroth? Philippe asked.

This is not good, the night blue said, bugling from where he was in the Lab.

Instinctively, Philippe put himself between the arrivals and the dragon. Randaril could see and feel the magic as his brother prepared to fight. "Think you can turn them all into zombies?" Randaril asked over his brother's shoulder. Philippe sent him a glare, but his lips played with a smirk. "Just wondering..."

"Shy just invited the nobility of how many Nexiuans?" Philippe asked, not taking his eyes off the scene below. "There are a dozen space ships in orbit - who brought said nobility. And Thayer has Bane. We're fine." Philippe glanced over at the young prince from Tris'Hath, then silently began recalling spells that he normally did not keep prepared. If these dragons were going to fight, then Philippe wasn't going to go easy. Of course, zombies and large, mean dragons were two different things. Time to shrink, Philippe told Faroth, closing his eyes to concentrate. Moments later, Faroth landed on his shoulder, eyes blazing red and he growled in defiance. Philippe flipped out his dagger from his belt.

He glanced back at his brother who was looking quite pissed. "Let me guess, you didn't bring any weapons..."

Randaril glared at the blue rider. "Of course I did! They're in my room!"

Philippe blinked. "You did?"

"You live 200 damn years in the wilderness expecting everything trying to attack you and you go see what habits you pick up," Randaril snapped back. At this Philippe opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again with a 'good point' like shrug before turning back to the fight. Menelith growled, and Randaril managed a smirk, knowing that the little bronze was snarling at his brother. "Yeah, he's an idiot...but right now, he's a pissed idiot and quite dangerous..."

---

Meanwhile, Tiale found herself behind the other two men with Kesukiath and Hontori appearing in the opening between them. "Okay, not what I expected at a hatching," Jarel muttered. "It's like that damn attack on Isla all over again!"

"Except with bigger targets," Aenon amended, his smirk betraying his itching desire for a fight as he made his preparations.

Tiale hugged Nanyehith to her but the young woman wasn't about to hide. Both she and her young dragon glared at the newcomers, both prepared to do whatever it took to help the two men acting like their shield.

[baka-ryu]

Janardan barely had time to process the formation of a new bond between his mind and the tiny, imperfect gold cradled in his arms before the sky blotted to blackness and chaos erupted. Fear trembled through Al-Kahinath and blossomed to burning rage in Janardan. He was vaguely aware of Kutoth's worry as well, a bright spark of empathy for the people around them, but it was overshadowed by the hatchling's alarm. Janardan set Al-Kahinath down and took a few steps away from her.

:: Janardan :: Kutoth whispered. :: I can't... they want to take a hatchling. I think they intend to hurt the rest of us. And I don't... ::

Kutoth didn't have the power to handle them, not anymore. That was fine.

Janardan had destroyed a world once. He could handle a few dragons.

:: Are you going to get hurt? Will we be alright? :: Al's mindvoice whirled with panic.

:: I'm going to keep you safe. ::

Whoever these dragons were, they wouldn't lay a hand on his hatchling.

He let his power flow freely through him. An unbearable ache suffused his bones, made his muscles scream and tense, and he exploded skyward, growing from his already stately eight feet to ten times his natural size, casting his own looming shadow over the hatching grounds. He plucked Al-Kahinath from the sand, delicately between two fingers, and set her gently inside Thayer's protective bubble. With her as safe as could be for now he turned his gaze to the Death Court dragons and curled his lips in a snarl.

He flicked his tail with one last burst of magic, shifting the soft gel-like structure of his tail frond into a sharpened scythe.

"You won't touch a single hatchling here," Janardan growled, his voice a thunderous boom in this eighty-foot form. He curled all four hands to fists and struck at the nearest dragon.

---

Kutoth hesitated outside the bubble. He wasn't powerless, but his abilities had dwindled nearly to dust motes and he couldn't fathom what use he'd be in this fight, but it seemed cowardly to huddle away when he should be able to do something.

He turned to Shy and the other leaders. "Is there somewhere we can get the hatchlings to safety? A bunker here or someone's ship? I can teleport." He eyed the sky, growing dark and dizzy with the swirling of wings. What if those things had a means of blocking teleportation? Kutoth didn't want to be caught carrying hatchlings into that hive.

Icelos bristled behind Kutoth's knee and the murdon could feel the little newborn's desire to fight. It would have been humorous under different circumstances.

---

This was not what Dietlinde had signed up for, but she was a soldier, and despite the odds racked against her she wasn't going to back down. While positive weapons hadn't been allowed on the sands, Dietlinde had tucked a tiny pistol into the lip of her boot, where it had begun to chafe and blister her skin. Far better to have a bit of irritation than to be eaten by a dragon. She pulled it out now, swiped Mauryath off the sand and under her arm like a sack of potatoes.

"We're getting out of here," she snapped.

Or... she would if she could spot a safe exit.

And then she recalled Dr. Krum was here somewhere. She'd barely seen a trace of the woman since the greeting party but she must have been in the sands. And while Krum wasn't technically a civilian, she was no soldier and it was Dietlinde's job to keep her safe. She couldn't return to the Heimdall without her. Dietlinde cursed, hugged Mauryath tighter, and tried to head for the stands.

[Xenoqueen]

When Schroeder had realized the little blue hatching was scrambling towards him, he'd slammed his mind closed and closed off. Not for a lack of opportunity, he had never bonded, and with all the misgivings he now possessed about being here, a creation of Shy's was very, very low on the list of things he might be willing to consider. Thankfully, he felt no small mind trying to grasp for his own, no bond to rebuff and redirect. And not long after that, there were many, many other things to worry about instead.

Down on the sands, he saw little Xiao Shy pick up his pace and follow along the ushering of some mighty horse-like creatures to the presumed safety of a shield of some kind, miniscule dragon in his arms. The miniature Shy looked faintly more disturbed by the interruption than distressed, but knew better to linger in potential danger alone.

Schroeder himself moved to join Director Kutoth -- perhaps the only individual present in this section of the stands with him that Schroeder had confidence and faith in.

"If there are no other options, you may shelter in the Destiny," he invited the old murdon. The hulk of the ship hovered in the empty sky overhead. Though not unarmed, its weapons fixtures were defensive only, and certainly not calibrated for picking dragons out of a sky above numerous vulnerable innocents -- or from around the bulk of Kutoth's son, expanding into the sky.

But there were other things Schroeder could offer to aid those who had done no wrong. He reached his mind out to his ship and to those who could answer his summons.

In short order, a pack of at least a half-dozen yautjadragons and yautja-hybrids had been teleported to the stands, bristling with armor and weaponry -- hereditary for the purebloods, and ship-assigned for the hybrids. As a coordinated unit, they moved to engage any of the dragons attacking those that occupied the stands, fearless in the face of the clearly overwhelming numbers, but not so foolish enough as to throw themselves to certain death. They were followed by others still, dragons and men and other creatures entirely: the security forces of the Abstract Destiny, moving in defensive coordination, rather than offensive.

Two in particular moved towards him personally: a gray bipedal hybrid that hastened to Schroeder's side, and a small silver dragonet that fluttered onto his shoulders with a little creel. Secure in their company, Schroeder turned towards assessing the rest of the situation further and -- his attention fixed again on the dragon that had called itself king. He recognized it. In a fashion.

"Is that Pretentiouth?" he demanded more than asked, snapping an incredulous look towards Faust, and deciding that yes, indeed, he would be wise to rinse his hands completely of all associations with Shy or Faust in the future.

[DragonFlight]

(@Mystic for Sabrilla a little bit if you like XD)

And here he'd been having a good day. An interesting one.

Not that this wasn't interesting, but it was more the dangerous kind than the pleasant sort. Alarith did not feel heavy in his arms - the dragonet serenely holding his data slate in turn, despite all the erupting chaos. Perhaps taking example from Shan's mental disconnect in order to maintain logic over panic. He quickly notes Jaliath offering assistance to Sabrilla, to try and calm her into moving on her own alongside her hatchling (though he wouldn't be above bodily picking one or both of them up if it's needed), and moves to keep out of the way himself -- he's sure Shy would have it handled regardless....

Until he spots the Pigeons. Glitching out. The screaming. The maddening giggling.

Icy realization that if they're all connected, then --

Alarith looks up at the chilling sensation, and tilts his head, feeling Shan actually vibrating with rage over...oh, a precious friend has been hurt by this. And they can't get to her to help --

"Desh." Shan's voice is low, and cold, and yet somehow carries exactly to the person it needs to.

Desh, who has moved to shield Imraan (as the rest appear to have currently adaquate protections), tilts his head slightly, and whrr-clicks, indicating a query.

"Burn that arrogant filth." Each word laiden with the promise of pain. But if Shan turns away and flees afterwards with tears running down his face, well, no one needs to see that.

"Anxiety. Distress. Pain. Anger." Blip. "Unacceptable emotional state. Request confirmed." One of his arms snakes out a small, egg-shaped stone, littered with glittering black and blue veins, which he offers towards Imraan. "Please retreat to safety."

It's not unlike seeing molten metal pool, except that it's sudden and without heat -- Desh liquifies into something like a living puddle, and then grows, resolidifying at a much larger size (one clearly more suited for smashing in dragon-sized faces), still four-armed, armored, and metallic, though the air seems to sizzle for a moment with should not be and wrong before there's more hands, floating and detached and branishing sharp and pointy weaponry just as deadly as the rest of him.

The first thing he does is punch the closest offender, whether he's taking the first shot or not. Because they're wrecking his new friend's designs. And they made Shan cry.

Desh Current Emote-Mood: 凸(>皿<)凸

[Naeodin]

Imraan stood, hands clenched into fists as he stared at the dragons that were landing and breaking up his landscape. His eyes simmered molten gold as he scowled, watching branches break and glass shatter.

As carnivorous steeds with burning eyes and steaming coats crashed into the hatching sands, Imraan winced again. The work! The care he had put into….!

Taking the odd looking stone from Desh, he nodded his head, tucking it closer to his body. He frowned. “But what will you be able to-“ he watched the golem like creature melt and then regrow, his eyes widened. “Okay. Sure.”

“Would you like for me to implement the Bad Guest Protocol?” Ari’s eyes continued to be a cool, placid shade of grey as she remained unaffected, even by the sight of an eighty foot form swatting at dragons.

“Not yet.” He murmured. “Our guests seem well equipped, we should-“ he stopped at Kutoth’s question, bristled at the thought that someone would presume he would not be able to protect his hatchlings.

At the Doctor’s words, he paused.

Hmm.

“Doctor, if you would not mind granting access to my projects for a group teleport?” he asked, smiled sweetly. “I would not take advantage of your invitation.”

Ari sighed. Closed her eyes. Opened them. Just a touch of gold cracked in the grey depths. “I” she stressed. “Assure you that he will not take advantage of your invitation.”

Shy’s eyes continued to stare at the blue dragon who had horns that suspiciously resembled designs he had never managed to recover.

“Neither were supposed to survive the spell, Doctor.” He answered absentmindedly. “The Fool did not. I did not think a Healing Den dragon would have been capable of such strength.”

[indyana]

As shadow fell over the hatching sands, Arion's eyes immediately sought out his guardian, Sovereign Stelte, in the spectators' area, and the guards split between them. Arion was already walking, Apheidath hoisted in his arms, as a few of the newcomer dragons approached the hatching sands, appearing abruptly with what could only be teleportation magic. The tension and alarm that Arion felt ripple through the arena left him no doubt that these were not allies of the dragons already on the sands. Seeing Arion's movement, and perhaps the expression on his face, the head of his guard, Theori, and his partner, approached from the edge of the arena where they had been waiting, and Sovereign Stelte began descending from the front of the spectators' seating, somehow managing to look unhurried, even as the guards with him were eyeing the circling dragon fleet and struggling to keep up.

Where are we going? demanded his new Imperial Court bond. Arion could feel their curiosity and frustration at being kept from seeing what was happening. The golden hatching wriggled and craned to peer over Arion's shoulder.

Hush, Apheidath, he thought at the hatchling, hoping they would be able to hear him already. These are threats, and we are not equipped to battle them.

It was true, unfortunately. They had brought few weapons, and none that were capable of sustained defense against the number of dragons that had arrived. Theori was speaking rapidly into a communication crystal, and Arion felt certain he was summoning defense skiffs, but even those would be rapidly overwhelmed.

The Acharynians had gathered by the time their attackers descended, roaring and wailing. They were surrounded, but they had an advantage in that some of the architecture was designed for smaller creatures. There would be ways to escape. Shy, master of the Labs, stood to respond to the strange dragon king who preened before the crowd, and Arion hoped for a moment that the geneticist might have a way to negotiate... a hope that was quickly dashed as he all but picked a fight.

I should not have expected different... Arion sighed and shifted the heavy dragon newborn in his arms. Shy was lord of an impressive domain, but even as a new acquaintance, Arion had been struck by his conceit. This was a leader used to having his way, no matter what consequences it might have for his new allies.

Fighting broke out as several of the attendees rushed forward to defend the hatching sands. The enemy dragon king's fire was met with earth magic, and as they watched, one of the fellow candidates, grew to enormous size, becoming a giant towering over the bowl of the sands. Others were setting up defensive magic, rallying around noncombatants. It pained Arion to realize that they were in no position to offer aid. Had Kyre been here, or Emex and Izbega, they might have represented Acharyn more honorably.

"We must get back into the Labs, sires," Theori instructed as he prodded the guards into a cluster around the two royals and their new charge. "It will be safer to shelter unless we have no option but to flee via ship."

Sovereign Stelte flared out his deep silver wings. "Stay beside me, Select Sibling. My abilities will be of use here, I think."

[Mystic Dragon]

@Shard

The unearthly screech of the towering horses cut through the steady stream of bellows and screeches coming from the Death Court dragons. Three in particular wheeled and dove from overhead, attracted by the glimmer of fire in their eyes. A sickly yellow dragon landed on one side, a brown-green on another, and a pallid, deathly blue dragon completed the triangle around the two steeds. They began to circle, eyeing the horses for a hint of weakness. The yellow moved in first, snapping at a hoof like a wolf eager for a bone to chew.

@Yakima

A low, steady purr cut through the cacophony all around. The Light Court green with her crown of horns fixed her attention on Randaril and Philippe, who remained on the sands. She stalked forward a few steps, her eyes whirling a delighted violet.

Aww… Did you get left out here all by yourselves? Poor things.

Before the green could reach them, a darkly shaded brown crashed down from overhead, kicking up a cloud of dust as he whirled to face the two Sentran men.

I’ve got them, my queen, the brown crowed. He sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled a blast of blue fire that spattered out like liquid, clinging to everything it touched.

---

Up in the stands, Thayer drew his sword and watched the chaos all around the exterior of his dome. The red tint added an element of fury to the diving dragons and the lab’s defenders. He wanted to be out there helping. If he left the dome, he stripped that small bit of protection from those who needed it.

“Come on, Bane,” he muttered under his breath. “Get back here already.”

At that moment, two massive clawed fingertips poked through the top of the bubble and deposited a blue-streaked gold onto the stands beside him.

“Hello,” Thayer greeted the little hatchling. Then his attention tracked up to a small knot of people standing just outside the bubble.

What had Philippe said the woman’s name was?

“Tale… Tia… Tiale,” he shouted. “Hey, get in here. It’s not safe out there.”

@bug

The towering alien far outstripped any of the dragons present. The Dark Court gold, Nemondath, did not look put off by the size disadvantage. She reared up on her hindlegs, wings splayed, her neck snapping back and jaws dropping open in mimicry of a snake about to strike. His fists came toward her at the same time and with a resounding crack, knocked the gold back to the ground.

Nemondath hit the sands with a blast of dust and a cry of outrage. She rolled, gathering her feet beneath her once more and pushing down the sudden throbbing pain in her chest. Again she gaped her jaws in a feral grin.

You would DARE? I will burn you to ash!

From her open mouth, a gout of acid splashed forth. The spray was directed at Janardan, but splattered and skewed wide around him as well.

---

As Diet headed for the stands, a shrieking cry from overhead heralded an attack. A small, sleek Death Court blue dove for her with claws outstretched.

@Phe

Stacurik dove and ducked through the air, avoiding dive bomb attacks from Death Court dragons all around. To his left, Baneo caught one of the unfortunate dragons in a blast of his red flyme. To his right, Baaki grappled with another of the spiky dragons, biting down on its wing as it attempted to kick through her mid-section. She came away from the interaction with blood dripping from her stomach, but the Death Court went spinning to the ground with a screech as her teeth pulled off a section of its wing sail.

I’m coming for you, Stacurik sent to his bond.

No. I have too many innocent people here. The bubble is holding. Just keep them away from the stands, Thayer sent back.

The Alskyrian blue snarled his frustration and spit a quick blast of fire at a passing Death Court.

We’ve got incoming, Baneo announced. The scarred red pulled up alongside the blue and nodded his head upward.

There, barely visible through the shadow of wings and the hazy light of this dimension, the looming outline of a massive ship. Pouring out of the outline, spinning down like a hive of furious bees, came another horde of winged defenders.

Good, now we can coordinate, Stacurik said. No sooner had he thought the words than a blast of mental and audible agony screeched across his awareness. He banked hard to see Baneo encased in blue fire, swatting and slapping at his own hide as a Death Court dove toward his exposed back.

Stacurik intercepted the dragon, slamming into his unprotected belly and halting his downward dive abruptly. From above, Baaki hissed and raked her claws along the Death Courth’s spine. The spiky dragon shrieked and threw himself into a hard turn, bolting away from the two dragons. Baaki gave chase, but Stacurik turned to help Baneo swat at the fire that would not go out.

It’s- ow! It’s sticky! How is it sticky?

Don’t be a dumbass and pick it up with your claws!

You blowing on it isn’t helping either.

Together, the red and blue slapped or scraped the fire away from Baneo’s hide. It fell in thick , flickering globules toward the ground, where it spattered out into starfields of still burning puddles.

Don’t let the blue fire hit you, Stacurik blasted out to everyone open to mental contact. It sticks and it can’t be put out by normal means.

@Dragonflight and everyone

Sabrilla scrambled to her feet, clutching Kanishkath so tight to her chest that the hatchling whined in discomfort. Tears streaked her face and dirt marred her pretty green dress. She didn’t care for any part of her disheveled appearance. Only the relief she felt upon seeing Jaliath appear and attempt to lead her away from the sands.

Bane had appeared in front of her, a hulking black wall against the terrifying dragons now bearing down on them. He’d raised up a wave of sand that the blue dragon had turned to glass before her eyes. Now he stood with one hand clutched around the hilt of his sword, and the other wreathed in flames.

“You need to get out of here,” Bane called over his shoulder.

“Yes, please. Please, can we go,” Sabrilla pleaded, looking up at Jaliath.

At that moment, the wall of distorted glass groaned, then exploded in a thunder of noise and shower of glittering shards. Sabrilla screamed again as glass rained down over them and Naxi’im advanced through the jagged remains of Bane’s defense.

Yet it seemed the blue dragon was not intent on them, but on the egg behind them. The singular egg remaining on the sands.

Bane cast a look between the dragon and the egg, and with one quick gesture from his flame-wrapped hand, the egg jetted up into the sky on a gust of wind.

“Somebody catch,” he bellowed.

---

The sudden growth of the metallic man caught a few dragons off guard. One or two squawked and flapped rapidly out of his way as he grew into the space where they had been moments ago.

The resounding ‘CLANG’ of Desh’s fist popping a Death Court green out of the sky and sending it bouncing off the ground below struck a different chord with the circling horde of attackers. A unified howl rose up around him, and a swarm of dark wings descended on Desh.

@Naeodin and Bug and Shard and Phe

"Daddy?" The alarmed, high pitched question came from Striga, who hadn't moved from her seat since the darkening of the sky. She looked up at Shy now with wide, terrified eyes.

The stands behind Shy and his companions let out a shriek and a groan as a heavy weight settled on steel not meant to hold a dragon. During the chaos of attacks from above, the black Death Court queen had snuck around and clambered up the back of the stands to peer down at the collection of scientists and doctors with a greedy grin on her face.

Oooh… there’s so many of you here! Oh goodie! Which one do I want first?

Takith stalked down a tier, metal groaning beneath her. She looked from Doctor Schroder, to Director Kutoth, to Shy, and then back.

I piiiiiick… you!

And the black dragoness lunged toward Director Kutoth.

@indy

A small, rust-coloured body slammed to the ground before the tight circle of bodyguards and Sovereigns. The small dragon creeled in pain, one wing hanging limply, but when it turned its spike covered head toward the group, hunger blazed in its eyes. The dragon hissed and stalked toward the guards, one wing dragging on the ground behind it.

[Shard]

It was a cacophony of panicked sounds, but also of calm orders, stern warnings, and the endless static of flapping wings in the air, that met the darkly tanned man’s ears. His eyes were yet closed. He felt more than he had seen as his son turned on a powerful shield spell, one which would certainly give these incoming dragons something to chew on should they encounter it. It had... been Oraldo that had taught Vaeden that spell. Van’s thin lips curled into a half smile at that thought. His court mage had grown strong and confident in his own abilities while living at the Leespire keep.

And it was a good thing that the shield Vaeden had thrown up was there at all: three dragons landed quickly and decisively around the sheltered group and the steeds protecting them. Devera had wisely chosen to remain as close to the steeds as she had, once they’d arrived, and placed her dragonet on the ground with clear mental instructions to remain close by but try to avoid... you know, the hooves.

A yellowish colored dragon was joined by two others in a strong tactical group. Vaeden spotted what they would try to do, and thought to his sister.

They are trying to look for weak spots, I won’t let them get any.

She acknowledged this with a lowered head - one that was echoed in the pair of steeds, and her dragon on the ground. So fierce, so little.

Van hadn’t heard the communication between the siblings of course, but he didn’t need to. He trusted them to guard each other’s backs. And that was good, because suddenly his eyes snapped open, at the feeling of wind displaced behind them in the stands: a much larger dragon had just landed, causing the stands to creak with its weight.

When he turned to look at this behemoth, he saw darkness like oil, she was towering and very, very hungry looking. He didn’t know who - or what - this person she was reaching for was, but what Van did know is that his instincts, thousands of years in the making, had kicked in.

He spun and flung himself at full speed toward the claws of this dragon, affording little thought to the condition of his finery or even his body: the dragon’s paw impacted him with claws fully raised. They sank into his side, his shoulder, and his right arm.

“GET TO SAFETY,” he yelled, and then turned, still impaled on the dragon’s paw, to deal with her.

That meant, apparently, he simply clawed her right back. His hands dug into the dragon’s hide; thick, hard skin, difficult to pierce for any weapon, including his own nails. That was fine. He grasped one of the claws, the one that hadn’t impaled part of him, and felt with his free left hand until he found the quick - a narrow join between the exposed claw, and the skin underneath it. Where claws grew, where smaller things, like his nails, could easily reach without hindrance from the skin around it.

Then he pulled with impossibly super-human strength, at that claw.

**

Devera and Vaeden had their hands full with the group that was now huddling, herded by the trio of dragons, but guarded fiercely enough by those steeds and some magic. When they heard their father’s voice it was as if from a distantly recalled nightmare. They both paused, Devera could see without turning that there was a massive dragon above the group in the stands, and he was there in front of it.

He - he - he was impaled by that massive thing’s claws, but still he simply yelled and grabbed a hold of it? Determination filled his body, it seemed, all of his actions were hardly those of one that was clinging to life. He was holding on to the dragon’s paw at least as much as it was grasping him, at that point.

[Yakima]

@Mystic
Philippe smirked at the green, yet his sarcastic, not very nice retort was ended when the brown appeared. In the two seconds he had, Philippe grabbed Randaril and dragged both his brother and the hatchling, seeming to vanish in the brown's shadow. He stepped out amid the chaos of the crowd with Randaril looking very flustered and shaken. "Yeah, no warning, sorry. Faroth...go!" Faroth warbled and launched himself, vanishing between. "Menelith, get to Thayer and his bubble." For some strange reason, the little bronze didn't seem to argue and bolted toward Thayer's protection as fast as he could. Randaril looked quite confused.

"Why did you..."

"Because I doubt you want to fight and watch him at the same time," Philippe said, turning back to the brown that was not happy about his failed attack. "I'll get the brown."

"Um...okay...what am I suppose to do?" Randaril asked, more annoyed than anything but knowing better than to argue with Philippe when he was in this mood.

Faroth appeared, dropping the wrapped bow and quiver into Randaril's hands with a grunt. Ril snapped his mouth shut and looked at Philippe as Faroth, exhausted from his tripped (which he no doubt timed as well...), returned to Philippe's arm with a growl toward the brown. "Shoot things," Philippe smirked, then shadow walked back to stand in front of the brown, avoiding the weird fire. "Miss me, ass hole?" he asked, catching the browns attention just before raising his hand and, with a quick gesture and word of command, sent a ray of sickly green energy, laced with bright blue, at the brown. The brown turned to ash even it roared. Philippe then turned to the green, his eyes blazing more black than blue now. He flipped his dagger and prepared another spell. "If you value your life...I would leave while you can, because I am not in a good mood anymore..." Philippe growled, the aura around him a heavy black and blue. On his shoulder, Faroth growled, crouching.

Above, Randaril quickly unwrapped his bow and slung the quiver around his hips, muttering the entire time. Muttering about the straps not working right in his frenzy to gear up, muttering about wearing no armor, muttering about how this loaned outfit was probably going to be ruined (and he quite liked it...), and muttering about how his brother had just marched off and was already showing off. Not that it really mattered. An army had teleported in from who-knew-where, not to mention the golem thing that was now destroying anything in its path. Jarel was shooting off fireballs and he didn't even want to know what the necromancer was up to. Finally, he strung his bow with quick, practice movements and strung an arrow to the string and turned to take aim at the brown.

And smiled.

Now...he wasn't helpless...

The brown, however, was gone. The ash floating into the air was enough for Randaril to sigh, lower his bow, and glare at Philippe. "Show off..." he muttered, then turned to shoot something else.

---

Aenon heard Thayer calling Tiale and half turned to the young woman. "Go...stay safe."

"Yeah..." Jarel smirked, shooting another fireball off. Above Hontori and Kesukiath had joined other dragons in the fray. "Eventually they will just give up, go home, and let us get to the fun stuff!"

Tiale stared at him dead-pan for two seconds then ran toward the bubble and Thayer, Nanyehith held tightly. She didn't want to admit that Jarel was right...but what could she do against a horde of dragons! She scooped up Menelith as she ran as well then skidded to a halt next to Thayer, giving him a sheepish, apologetic grin. She didn't want to put the hatchlings down yet. "Not what I was expecting," she told the prince.

[StarFyre]

Beryl adjusted her grip on Aminath as the hatchling scrambled up to drape partially across her shoulders, inwardly thankful for her innate Adventurer's strength and durability as Aminath's claws hooked around her armor and pressed against her skin; she would never have been able to carry such an energetic dragon around Before.

She glanced up at the stands, smiling faintly at Lerya's thoughtful look and the considering way that Michiyo was eyeing first her and Aminath and then the eggs out on the sand.

(Perhaps they would not stop at three of their six members bonding?)

(What an interesting thought.)

The rest of the hatching seemed to pass with relative ease -- hatchlings pairing off with people, and two went over to Darasath to play, but otherwise everything seemed... normal?

Until suddenly it wasn't.

The weird Pigeon creations appeared to glitch somehow, popping in and out and shrieking about "they" being here, and then--

"Why am I absolutely not surprised," Beryl murmured as she stared up at the sky, at the hundreds of dark wings that blotted out the sun. It was like a raid gone suddenly sideways, and this-- this at least she knew how to handle.

Michiyo landed on the sands next to her, followed immediately by Varix, and the two of them pulled their weapons from their magic bags and stepped in front of her. Lerya landed lightly at Beryl's other side, her staff already out and glowing with power, while with her other she offered Beryl back her own magic bag.

"I need you to get down, little one," Beryl said as she wriggled her shoulders a bit. "Stay with Lerya for now, I'm going to need all my attention to fight."

"I can help though!" Aminath yelped, her head whipping around to fix Beryl with a scowl. "We're partners!"

"You're barely a half hour old." Beryl shook her head and slung her magic bag in place, pulling out her katana as she did. "Leave the fighting to us for now. When you're older, then you can join us."

Aminath growled, the sound more adorable than terrifying given her size, but dropped from Beryl's shoulders, slunk over to Lerya, and promptly scrambled up her side.

"Hey, watch the claws!" Lerya yelped as she hastily wrapped her free arm around the squirming hatchling and boosted her up. "Squishy healer wears cloth, not metal armor!"

Beryl swallowed the urge to snicker and ignored Lerya's dark look in favor of scanning the sands; the chaos was only growing, with fights breaking out everywhere she could see, and Darasath--

Darasath was standing guard over the two hatchlings, her wings mantled and a deep, vicious growl vibrating up her throat. A magical shield was wrapped around her and the hatchlings, and she was hurling fireballs at any of the attackers that got close to her and her charges. Renoth was nearby, laying into various dragons with tooth and claw and stinger, her fury clear to see.

"Let's go," Beryl ordered as she indicated Darasath. "We're safer in a group."

It didn't take long to get to the gold dragoness, who cast them a brief look and a rumbled, "Watch yourselves," before returning to harrying the dark dragons who approached them.

Lerya snorted and planted herself a few feet in front of Darasath, within her defensive barrier but near the edge, and promptly cast Sanctuary, the magic rippling out from her to form a glowing gold square on the ground.

Beryl grinned sharply as she felt her defenses rise. "Right then, lets take some of these assholes out, shall we?"

Before Michiyo and Varix could do more than agree, though--

"Don't throw eggs!" Renoth shrieked in fury, launching herself through the air to snatch up the egg that Bane had thrown, cradling it awkwardly against her chest as she twisted away, powerful wingbeats driving her further. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

[indyana]

@Mystic
((Feel free to attack or take down the skiffs. If the group manages to make the exit, one will probably try to land to block anyone from following.))

The Acharynians clustered tighter as the wounded enemy came for them.

In Arion's arms, Apheidath hissed, setting their neck into a shining curl and seething at the oncoming dragon. There was no fear coming from the hatchling, only unwavering focus and aggression. Arion concentrated on that and let it take root in his chest before spreading it outward through his wings and toward the surrounding men. For all his anxieties in daily life, Arion had little true fear in his heart either. He was a Sones. His sungold magic might not be much defense against a dragon, but he could at least strengthen his allies.

"Don't try to fly, just stay close," Sovereign Stelte commanded. His wings arched and Arion felt his own feathers buzz as the Sovereign began gathering power. There was a rising noise around them, a low metallic ringing, that grew in volume. Stelte's wings shivered and the air before them began to shimmer. Arion couldn't tell if it was because the air was moving or because his eyes were vibrating with the force of the noise.

The dragon seemed to hit the edge of the magic and snarled, shaking its head back and forth before fixing their small group with renewed malice. With a lunge, it tried to attack, and the ringing rose even louder, causing it to squeal in pain.

The agony sliced through Arion's mind, but he let it pass through him, using it to fuel the resolve he was projecting out to their guards. Stelte's magic wasn't waning, but as they watched, the wounded beast continued lunging, making labored steps toward them even as it groaned and screamed in pain.

You cannot stop me, it growled. I will tear your wings from your bodies!

Even with the dragon nearly on top of them, Arion didn't dare put down the hatchling to draw his laser gun. It would not be of much use anyway, and he had to make sure he and Apheidath were mobile, ready to run. Around him and Sovereign Stelte, the guards all had rifles raised. Not for the first time in his life, Arion wished his magic were more like his great-great grandfather's… the Sungold Emperor had been able to unleash waves of golden lightning in battle.

The reddish dragon loomed over them for a protracted moment, then snapped forward the final few steps. Its head darted toward the Sovereign but swerved off as the magic around him flared, creating a visible white aura around his wing feathers. Instead, it dashed to the side, and there was a barrage of panicked rifle fire as it passed the front guards. Arion saw the impacts strike bone, barely making the dragon cringe. Its head was well past the Sovereign when it swung its neck back in, bodily knocking one of the forward guards into Stelte's space. There was a dip in the volume of the ringing as the Stelte leader tried to hold concentration, rounding out to the dragon's side and spreading his wings further.

The motion had brought the head of the dragon nearly to Arion's position, and Apheidath let out a high-pitched snarl of challenge, trying to flare up their own wings while held against Arion's chest.

"Get back, sire!" Thoeri brought himself between Arion and the dragon and leveled his rifle at their attacker's face.

As the dragon snaked its neck back, focusing on Arion and Apheidath, Thoeri fired. The shot hit dead on one of the dragon's eyes, and it screamed in rage and pain, snapping forward to crunch down on the rifle, catching one of Thoeri's arms in its jaws and tearing.

The other guards fired on the dragon, but it did little more than singe its hide as it shook Theori back and forth. Then, a larger streak of light slammed into the back of the dragon's neck and it released its prey, twisting to roar upwards, where an Acharynian defense skiff hovered above them. The skiff fired again, targeting the face and neck, trying to drive the dragon off. A second skiff soon joined the barrage, hitting the beast's good wing.

"Move! Get Thoeri!" Arion cried, seeing they had an opening to reach the exit.

[DragonFlight]

"Yes, right now." Jaliath remains right on hand - and as the glass came down, he moved to cover Sabrilla and her hatchling as much as he could -- Shajahanth squealing and practically clinging to his chest while the raining shards hit his back. It only takes a moment for his rapier to manifest in one hand as he calls it, and the other to assist the young lady. Retreat and exit, absolutely. Absolutely going to ignore the random glass shards stuck in his back for awhile. (XD Also, Jaliath is totally capable of being a bodyguard here, if you want to do anything with that, but if Sabrilla just needs to get off and away, that works too. :3)

--

The swarm is dark and filled with limbs and wings. And then his hands and their claws and blades. And then the swarm has many less limbs, and wings, and possibly bodies. (And oh god this is really not a great kind of /rain/, look out below, this is a /splash zone/.
o_o;;; Why do I only notice these things AFTER I do them....?) There is anger in these motions. Taking life, maiming life, should not feel so simple. Yes, it is in defense of others, especially many newly born, and yet --

He can feel ṫ̵̩̟̌h̶̫̥̦̓̀͝ȇ̷̙̰̳͝ ̸͍̜̹̠̀̓o̸̰̩̒͆̉̄ͅt̸̢͙͎̊̑̉̔ȟ̷̻̼e̶̪̼͚̠͌̈́r̷̞̭̅̀͒̄s̷̠̗͕̳͋̆ behind (t)his perception now, his anger spreading to them, roiling and churning, echoing back as reinforcement -- and the Coin flips, and lands, and she gives the downward thumb -- and he will be this executioner without regret.

Desh Current Mood-Emote: ⋋_⋌p

(Mostly babbling to myself about Desh's mental state here and his connection to his...."siblings" (GIANT airquotes) on account of he's just a big murdery distraction because giant robots are fun. XD;;; No plot intended or needed, unless requested, cause I suck at battle writing. XD)

[Mystic Dragon]

@Shard

The yellow dragon nearly had her face stomped in by a steely hoof. She skirted back as her blue sibling spat blue fire at the horse on the opposite side. The brown-green one stalked slowly around the outside, eyes trained on the protected humans in the tasty center of this difficult treat.

Come out, little humans, he called to Vaeden and Devera. Come out and play. Your beasts are so pretty. You wouldn't want them to get hurt in all this turmoil, would you? Send them away and play with us.

---

In the stands, Takith shrieked as Van hooked his fingers beneath her claw and pulled. Their claws had enamel. They could grow. But the way he burrowed his own talons into her sensitive skin caught just under the vein, and the claw came ripping free with a pop and sudden surge of blood. She reared up, the human still stapled to her remaining claws. As blood soaked into his pretty attire, she slammed him down into the stands, through several of the seats, and pinned him to the ground.

That HURT! You are going to pay for that, she shrieked. The black dragonness whipped her head back, sucking in a deep, rattling breath, then exhaled a stream of blue fire directly onto Van.

From up above, the mental anguish of the black queen struck a chord with other Death Court dragons. They came spiraling down, howling and screaming for blood.

@Yakima

Asimath watched the little blonde man disappear off the sands as if he could blink between like a dragon. No, not like a dragon. Like a magic user. The Vella Crean had a few of them. Her brown defender looked just as confused. Though he covered the side of the stands in blue flames, not a drop of it hit the elf. He stood in stark confusion a moment until the blonde man reappeared.

"Miss me, asshole," the little teleporting man said. Before the brown had a chance to reply, he dissolved to ash before Asimath's eyes.

Alright, this little mortal had more than a few tricks, and Asmiath had enough sense not to tangle with him one on one.

"If you value your life...I would leave while you can, because I am not in a good mood anymore..." he said.

Oh, tha'ts cute, Asimath purred. Next will you tell me I won't like you when you're angry? As she taunted Philippe, a mental tug went out to the nearest Death Court spawn. They flocked to her, a blue and a green landing between her and Philippe, and a pale yellow landing on the stands to his side. The metal groaned beneath the dragon's weight. She hissed, acid dripping from her maw as she loomed over the elf.

Asimath took several steps back, fully intending to let her subjects wear the little man down for her.

Here's a secret, little man, anger is an excellent spice.

The blue lunged in first, a hiss rolling up his throat as he aimed to chomp Philippe in half.

---

Thayer watched Tiale run down the length of seats, scooping up Randaril's dragon on the way. The woman and both hatchlings passed through the dome and came to a stop beside the frazzled-looking ayanrix.

"Yeah, no kidding. Here I thought hatchings were all cute baby dragons and drinks. But no, we get evil death dragons and-" His complaint ended abruptly as the stands shook beneath their feet. Thayer wobbled but maintained his balance. As the stands shook again, releasing a prolonged groan, he grabbed hold of the nearest seat to steady himself. That was when he looked down. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Beneath their feet, visible through the lattice of intricately woven steel, two bright orange eyes peered up at them in a dark, rust-coloured face. Scaled lips pulled back from pointed teeth, and the dragon let out a hiss that filled the dome with its hot breath.

"Nope," Thayer said as the maw opened wide, bubbling and gurgling audible in its depths. He wove his hands through a quick spell, and a shield sprang up beneath his feet just as the dragon released a spray of acid in their direction.

@Starfyre

On the sands, Bane remained locked in a staring contest with the blue who called himself King of the Death Court. Behind him, Jaliath and Sabrilla rushed for shelter. At the far end of the sands, Philippe faced off with one of the Death Court queens and three of her defenders. Far back toward the edge of the sands closest to the labs, a well organized group of winded individuals defended against a very determined rust-coloured dragon. Other than those small groups, no one else remained on the sands. People had scattered for shelter as quickly as possible.

Other dragons were landing, stalking toward the groups still trapped outside of shelters. Yet the moment the egg launched into the air, dozens of eyes turned skyward.

My egg, Naxi'im bellowed. Get my egg! The blue king spread his wings, preparing to take off, but a quick motion from Bane and the wind fled from his sails. He pushed down, but moved nowhere. His attention turned to the man in the black armour. The only one foolish enough to stand up to him alone. That was not smart.

Bane braced, pulling back with the fire-wreathed hand in preparation for an attack. Before he could launch the flames forward, Naxi'im whirled with uncanny agility, his tail dragging up through the sands, slamming into the man and flinging him far across the sands.

---

In the air, Renoth caught the egg and found it still whole and undamaged. The danger was far from passed though, as the second she closed her claws around that precious cargo, a howl rose up from the Death Court. Dragons descended in tight, pointed formations, aiming directly for her.

That egg belongs to my king. You will release it, commanded a ringing voice in Renoth's mind. The blood court gold with the wickedly curved spines on her neck, veered straight for Renoth, fully intent on slamming her out of the sky bodily if necessary.

@Indy

The rust-coloured dragon opened its mouth in a roar of challenge, only to receive another blast of searing golden light straight to its throat. Another took it through the eye, and as it toppled backwards, blows continued to punch their way through its dark hide. The group on the ground was now free of its attacker, but the skiffs now presented a new target.

Two massive brown dragons, each so dark they appeared almost black under certain light, broke off from the cloud of wings overhead. They dove toward separate skiffs, one aiming to land atop one of the vessels, and the other veering toward the source of the light that had taken out their brethren. The one aiming for the top of the skiff landed with a screech and crunch of compacting metal. He didn't wait to see what he faced now, but turned and blasted the surface of the skiff with sticky blue fire.

The other dragon dropped low, tucking his wings in tight until he came to the belly of the skiff. Then he lashed out with wickedly curved claws, trying to attach himself to the ship so that he hung from it upside down.

@DragonFlight

Sabrilla did not require further encouragement. With Kanishkath pressed so close to her chest that the dragoness whined from the pressure, she bolted for the nearest clear path. There weren't many of them. Dragons roared at Thayer's friend, Philippe, to one side. A group of winged people fended off a rust-coloured dragon to another. She needed to get indoors. If she could just get indoors-

And then Bane flew over her head, landing and bouncing across the sands in front of them.

Just run, Kanishkath said. He's strong. He's fine. You need to run.

It was a strange sensation having another mind in her own. She still didn't fully understand the connection to her new dragonet. She trusted it though. She trusted the calm and reassurance that Kanishkath exuded. Sabrilla ducked her head down and bolted for the lab doors.

---

They fell before his attacks like confetti, cut down with laughable ease. One two, ten, dozens. Alarm rang out through the Death Court minds. Someone took control. Someone ordered them to fall back. The dragons retreated, hovering out of range of those whirling death hands. They didn't dare approach within range, but their fire could.

A dome of Death Court dragons formed around Desh, all of them maintaining what they felt was a healthy distance from the towering metal monstrosity. Then as one, they unleashed their blue flame upon him.

[Shard]

@mystic

Van knew he’d hurt the dragon, when it gushed hot blood like that. He did not stop yanking with the nail, however. He dug, against the rush of blood, slick and difficult to grasp through. Nearly all the blood covering his own smartly cut uniform was the dragon’s. If he could find a tendon, that would be --

She shrieked, asserting he’d pay for his actions... Obviously this was going to end badly, but he would roll with it. Because apparently she didn’t get the memo. She slammed the King into the ground, and that would have killed any smaller man outright (and probably, quite a few even his size). He was winded, but that was good, actually. When he tried to draw a breath, he realized she was about to breathe flame on him? So he merely closed his eyes.

He did hope that his eyelids could weather this. If they didn’t, well, that would be pretty gruesome and he didn’t intend to have his children see anything like it.

The dragon’s full weight was on him, her claws still dug into his body and arm, as she blasted hot brightly blue flames downward. The stands blistered with it, whatever was left of the greenery and pseudo-magical growth of the area was blackened.

Van’s calm body was echoed in his mind. It was almost pleasant, this blistering fire. Almost. They did call him ‘Mad’ for a reason. And though he was definitely agitated, Van’s movements were measured, precise - very quick, almost too quick to see. Too subtle to feel, perhaps. He got his right arm out from the dragon’s claw, and would start trying to yank out another of those nails, or just maybe break the foot entirely? With both arms free, that would be far easier. Of course that did mean he had to wait until the breath was done.

It lasted quite a while, actually. Coupled with the sickening smell of boiled, burnt-away blood from the dragon’s own distressed limb, Van smelled burning hair, oh that was a wretched scent indeed. He could no longer feel his face, that was probably a blessing. His eyes would need some time to grow back...

The measure of moments enduring this torture were in heartbeats, strained ones under the massive weight of the dragon’s paw. He plotted out his next moves. He knew just what to do now...

Oh yes - except for Dreikoth. The bronze dragon was positively furious, he had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the siblings and their dragonets on exiting the area? But now this? It had happened so fast that Van hadn’t even properly summoned him.

But the dragon expressed rage in a much different way than his rider. And in the years that he’d been bonded to Van... he’d been magically given the ability to breathe fire of his own without having to eat coal or chew chemicals. It was entirely possible that the swarm of dragons blackening the area didn’t realize he was even there.

He knew they could teleport just like he could, or at least - he suspected it? He predicted where to go, for the best impact. High above the island-lab, Dreikoth drew in his own deep and magically-aided breath, and had a nasty surprise waiting for a group of stragglers that were circling the edges of the area.

***

Come out, little humans, he called to Vaeden and Devera. Come out and play. Your beasts are so pretty. You wouldn't want them to get hurt in all this turmoil, would you? Send them away and play with us.

The dragons hounding the group trying to escape were not letting up. The steeds were angrier than ever, and that meant...

Devera, keep calm, Vaeden sent to his sister, as he knelt by her dragonet. His own silver-shaded purple matched her golden winged one nicely, but with all the terror going on around them, blasts of energy and light, fire, screaming and blood? There would be time later to admire them. For the moment, Vaeden gathered the two dragons to himself closely.

Asantewaath was not happy about being handled by someone other than her chosen, but her own clutch sibling thought it was a much better plan than just rushing around under the sparking hooves of these big horses, or being eaten by those circling dragons beyond! Devarayath grasped his sister’s form, snaking his neck around hers to snug them both closer to Vaeden’s chest.

“Oof, you’re heavier together than I expected,” Vaeden huffed, standing. He was going to speak aloud, but then realized that these dragons... they could understand speech - he took the chance to send again. Back to the room, and then vanished in his own puff of mauve colored energy.

If the dragons noticed it, that would be impressive, because Devera had licked her lips and caused the steeds to both rear up noisily, snapping their bright hooves at whatever moved near.

[Yakima]

One word was spoken, as Philippe glanced over his shoulder toward the blue, his fighting stance solid. Faroth’s roar rose in volume as he returned to normal size like a shield over his rider and struck the blue.

Buy me time.

Faroth hesitated only in his mind. Are you sure?

If this bitch wants to play, then I will play. Philippe glanced at Aenon and Jarel who were moving toward him as quickly as they could. Above, Hontori and Kesukiath were already trying to attack others. Faroth growled, both for battle and his displeasure but Philippe was seeing something else. The longer this took the more lives would be lost.

His hands moved quickly, deftly. A circle sprang below his feet with arcane symbols. The magic flared at his command. He didn’t say anything to the green dragoness. He sent the wave of necrotic energy rippling along the ground, pulsating with sickly green and bright blue magic that danced amid the shadows of the spell.

He sheathed his dagger.

He wouldn't need it.

The incantation was quick, decisive, but incredibly effective. As Faroth fought to keep the other dragons off, Philippe’s spell continuously healing his dragon’s wounds, the elf looked straight at the green and finished his spell, lifting his arms even with his hips, as he did so. A soft word was all it took to send magic racing through the entire of the hatching area and even without, like a web of black, green, and a few threads of blue. It settled, then seemed to seep into the ground with a hiss. The smell of death and decay permeated the air.

Another word.

The magic streamed into the fallen corpses Dark Court dragons eagerly. A few began to twitch where they had fallen from the sky, their mutilated lifeless corpses from whatever damage had killed them, slowly returning to life yet their wounds did not heal.

“Back. Off.” Philippe growled the thought of what he was about to do making him sick. Yet, at this rate, he simply wanted it to end. He would give this green, clearly a leader, a choice. It would take one word to complete the spell.

She had one chance.

---

Kesukiath and Hontori dove into the ring around Phillippe. Kesukiath pounced on the yellow with Hontori behind him. Aenon and Jarel attacked the green, Jarel sending a cascade of fire arrows into the dragon’s hide; Aenon raised his hand to send a torrent of blood crashing into the green, the necrotic energy from his spell seeping her life away. It wasn’t enough to kill the green but Randaril stepped up, his eyes blazing with fury as she sent several arrows in quick succession into her hide.

Aenon and Jarel knew exactly what Philippe was about to do. Aenon wanted to cheer for this was the Amarion Ashfalcon he had read about in history books, the man that was a legend. Jarel was too busy trying to burn the green to a crisp, knowing he had to keep the dragons off Philippe as much as possible. Randaril...well...he may not like what Philippe was about to do but he was damn proud of his brother, too, and it fueled his own ire at having his hatching day ruined.

---

Tiale shrieked before Thayer got his spell completed. She stared at him, mouth open in terror. She felt Nanyehith’s magic and the dragonet’s mind. “Right...” she whispered, then closed her eyes and reached out with her hand toward the snapping maw below her. Ribbons of energy appeared outside the dome and began to wrap around the creature's neck, tightening. In her arms, the little purple green fueled her rider’s spell. “This is for ruining my dragon's hatching day,” Tiale growled, her fingers weaving her spell tighter around the beast's neck.

[[So yeah, waves of necrotic energy just rushed over the hatching sands and anyone near an undead dragon...well... it's waking up...lol]]

[baka-ryu]

@mystic

Groups of people were splitting apart and Janardan had to open his mind to theirs to make note of their presence as he lurched across the ruined sands after the gold queen. Her threat had him braced for fire. He wasn't prepared for the wide spray of acid. He threw two arms up to shield his face and chest. It sizzled where it touched him, the heat stinging before he could register the pain. Blinding. Janardan hissed, his fronds shriveling. He began to shrink. Sizeshifting was a difficult power to harness to begin with and the pain lancing through him shot his nerves and concentration.

And then. He stopped. He'd lost a few feet.

:: I'll help you! :: Al-Kahinath's voice was crystal clear despite the cacophony around them. :: I can help your magic.::

Convenient.

Janardan gritted his teeth and whirled on the gold. The <i>gold</i>. He'd show her what real gold was. He lashed out with an open palm, gold and purple crackled at the tips of his fingers.

(( ooc; Janardan is attempting to use a combined midas touch + pain touch on Nemondath. ))

---

Dietlinde whirled at the shriek, brandishing her pistol. She didn't think. She squeezed the trigger, aiming shots like tossed peanuts at the massive beast whirling toward her. Mauryath cried out and shoved her face in Dietlinde's armpit, tucked and shivering against her.

"Dietlinde!" whip-crack sharp, Dr. Krum's voice from somewhere near.

Dietlinde didn't dare turn her attention away from the dragon but shouted; "I need some help, Doctor!"

(no reply needed here unless someone else wants to jump in, just fiddling with a scenario)

----

@mystic, shard, phe, nae

"Yes, I think that might be best." Kutoth turned to face Dr. Schroeder. "But not without-"

He was about to say the hatchlings when the massive black dragoness landed, stalking toward their group. On instinct, Kutoth stepped forward, trying to shield who he could with his size, four arms outstretched in a pitiful attempt at keeping the others back. When her steely gaze landed on Kutoth he felt his fronds shrivel in fear. He couldn't do this. He couldn't face a dragon. Not any more, with his powers stripped to nothingness.

His fear turned to alarm when a human-like man surged to meet the dragon head-on, calling the rest to get to safety.

"We can't just leave him!" Kutoth ached to call out to his son, to anyone who might have the ability to help this stranger that had taken a blow meant for himself. Kutoth wasn't a fighter but he could at least try to help the man get away. Kutoth took an agonizing step forward and threw up his hands, blocking out the noise of shrieking dragons all around him. He attempted to shove the dragon off of Van with a blast of telekinesis. He wouldn't be able to hold a massive beast for long, or push it very far, but perhaps he could give the mad king a chance to get his feet under him.

:: I don't know very much about the politics happening here. :: Kutoth sent, strained, to Dr. Schroeder. :: But your ship might be the best way to save lives. ::

They could deal with repercussions afterward. If only he hadn't insisted on landing The White Serpent.

[indyana]

@Mystic, bit of a dead dragon twitch for @Yakima XD

One of the guards grabbed hold of Thoeri's upper body and began dragging, soon joined by a second to speed up the process. Sovereign Stelte folded his wings, and while Arion felt the magic die out and knew the noise must have stopped, his ears were still ringing as they rushed into the confinement of one of the corridors leading off the hatching sands. The skiffs bought them just the time they needed.

Arion glanced back once they were under cover and took in the amount of blood around his head guard's mangled arm.

"Stop and bind his wounds," he commanded, coming to a halt.

Apheidath twisted in his arms to look at Thoeri with interest, and Arion felt a surge of longing. It wasn't hunger… it was a desire to help.

Don't worry, they can stop the bleeding, he assured the hatchling.

"Select Sibling, we should get to safety first," Sovereign Stelte protested, breathing hard. The ex-general had to have used up a great amount of energy holding off the dragon for as long as he did; Arion took his caution to mean that would not be possible a second time.

"Bind them," Arion insisted to the guards holding Thoeri, wings twitching up slightly to make his point. He wasn't about to lose Thoeri to blood loss in the name of retreat. They were his Sones guards, and they obeyed despite Stelte's words.

Arion knelt and set Apheidath between him and Thoeri. Stay close… Then, he closed his eyes and took two deep breaths, concentrating on calming himself before reaching out and laying a hand to Theori's back, well away from where the guards needed to tend to him. He let calm flow from himself to the head guard who had protected him for the past six years.

A massive crash brought Arion's eyes back open, and he tried to keep breathing to settle himself as he took in the source. Outside, the reddish dragon was down and not moving, but a second dark dragon had slammed down into view on the sands, one of the skiffs driving down onto it at full tilt. The screeching of metal and whine of overtaxed engines continued as the skiff pilot tried to keep the dragon pinned to the ground underneath it.

The guards working on Thoeri's arm glanced up nervously, and the remaining two came around to stand between the entrance and their royalty, readying their personal shields. They all had them, and while they would buy time in the enclosed space, they would not last forever. Once Thoeri was stabilized, they would need to retreat further.

Outside, the din continued, and Arion saw the pinned dragon pull back its head, preparing to attack the skiff with something other than its claws. But his gaze suddenly was drawn past the skiff, to the downed form of their original attacker. It… moved. Wings fluttered erratically, then a leg twitched out.

It can't still be alive… Arion watched, horrified.

Or, at least, he did until the second skiff blocked their view, engines whining under what Arion could only assume was the weight of another dragon. He couldn't tell because the top of the skiff was blazing with strange blue flames that were somehow burning on crystal and metal. The skiff crashed down hard, closing off the entrance to the corridor where they stood. Protecting them, even as it burned.

"It is done, sire," one of the guards said. Arion couldn't remember his name; he was a newer addition.

"We should get farther inside." That was Urane, Theori's second in command. She hoisted Thoeri up with the younger guard's help.

Arion swallowed and examined their work. Thoeri's entire arm had been dusted and bound with what looked like every bandage any guard had been carrying. ...It would have to do until they could get to a healer.

Arion nodded and picked up Apheidath again with some effort.

I can walk, they grumbled, wriggling.

Arion frowned and adjusted his grip. Not until we get to safety.

They started moving farther back into the corridor, searching for safety.

[Naeodin]

The Death Court had blue fire- sticky fire that couldn't be put off by normal means.

Shy knew the curvature of Pretentiouth's new horns was familiar. He also knew somewhere, in his notes, he had a prototype for different variations of fire. But how had a Healing Den dragon managed to get his hands on both? A slow burn started in his stomach. Not dread or surprise, but... hope.

Shy had suspected not all of his notes had come through during the Transition (aka: being punted off the Vella Crean). Had they ended up somewhere else?

"Shy." Monique's eyes shone, the molten gold depths full of fire as she watched the scene around her. "Your intentions will be meaningless when the truth is discovered. You will be betrayed, and made a Bigger Fool. You could lose everything."

Shy's eyes narrowed. It was not Monique, his project who was speaking to him, but his Oracle warning him of the future.

"Go. Find the Fool. Protect him."

The Oracle scowled. "You want me to go play fetch, to find the broken toy? Let him die. Save us from the trouble and heartache he will cause."

Shy watched his Oracle, his eyes hardening, about to answer when Strig'a terrified, high pitched cry caught his attention.

"Go. Find the Fool. Protect him." the scientist repeated.

--

@Starfyre - the EGG!

The egg, that had been so carefully protected, undamaged from Bane's throw- cracked. A long crack down its length splintered into view.

((The egg. Is hatching. In Midair. While Renoth is being chased by Death Court dragons. Good luck!))
--

@Shard, Indy, Phe. Help arrives in the most unlikely forms!

'Allo?' a high pitched, gentle trill called out from the back of the stands, followed by an answering chirrup.

'Ooh la, a soiree? With a buffet?' trilled another voice.

The rustle of feathers grew louder as three large shadows ran towards Takith and the burning balding man. An indignant sniff and an all too feline 'hraack' furball spitting noise, followed by 'A bar bee cue!'

Three large, oversized, brightly colored raptors bounced into view, fluffy, overly extravagant plumage dancing with their movement. Bizarrely, the raptors appeared more like over dressed Vegas showgirls, long feathers decorating the tops of their heads and flowing behind them. Red, yellow, and green, the red one delighted at the sight of Takith and the burning Van, letting out an highly excited chirrup before bounding forwards and jumping onto Takith's back, sharp fangs shining as she snarled and tore at the Dark Court dragons' neck.

The green raptor brushed by Kutoth, molten gold eyes gleaming with curiosity, hunger. 'Food?' she trilled.

'Mais no cher dou, the buffet is flying towards us!' the yellow raptor called out, letting out a series of high pitched calls. The rustle of feathers increased as smaller raptors peeked into view, jumping after and chasing dragons that flew too close.

All. The Lab gets angry
Trigger: Blood.

The Death Court dragons descended towards the stands, summoned by the cry of their dark queen and the furious chase for the hatching egg. The pillars and arches that had been carefully woven together by the Architect buckled and strained as dragons landed and fought, groaning as archways broke off, splintering and falling towards the spectators.

"DADDY!"

Striga's cry was different, full of pain, abruptly cut off. Shy turned and ran towards his daughter who lay on the ground, her expression puzzled as she stared at the railing that pierced her abdomen, the end licked with blue fire. Her hands were slick with blood, the dark color - not quite red, pooling on the ground.

Shy froze.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." Imraan scrabbled towards Striga, Desh's hearthstone tucked into his shirt, his hands reaching out to touch the railing. "Shit. Shit shit shit."

The blue fire at the end sizzled, and the Architect's eyes flared as the railing neatly split into two. He distracted hurled the end of the Death Court's fire randomly away from him, turned to press his hands on the wound. "I've got you." he muttered. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit" the never ending expletive chant continued in lower tones as he turned harried eyes towards the geneticist.

"Get her to safety." he uttered. He reached out, placed a gentle hand on Striga's forward. "Shh, my dear. I'll fix this." he murmured, and watched her red eyes fracture with lines of gold. "You can be safe."

Striga's breathing came out in short pants. "They hurt me, daddy." the cracks of gold thickened. "They ruined your special event." The dark blood on the ground pooled and shifted, not quite liquid any more as it seemed to curl tightly towards Striga's body. "They hurt our new friends" she let out a low snarl. "I'm going to make them pay."

The labs trembled, echoing their siblings sentiment. Insulted at the arrogance of a dragon who would dare attack their master, furious at the pain and destruction that marred their perfect beauty- humiliated! At the fear!! They could feel in their guests!

Away from the sands, as if taking care not to hurt the little ones and their charges, the carefully manicured grounds of the Labs exploded into snapping vines and gnashing teeth of thorns and rock, smothering errant tendrils of blue fire, the trees and buildings pulling dragons out of the sky and swallowing them whole.

((The labs are alive. It is angry. It is hungry. It can help, or hinder your characters)).

[Xenoqueen]

@ Everybody in the Group on the Stands

Mistrustful though he'd grown of the situation at large, Schroeder had learned lessons against being blinded by anger or hate. He regarded Shy, Ari, Kutoth -- all asking for the shelter of his ship, which, elevated far and above, suddenly had become the safest place readily apparent in the chaos that had struck this pocket dimension. He didn't need even a whole moment to know that the innocent outnumbered the questionably guilty, and even if Shy did have intents to 'take advantage', once anyone was aboard his ship, there was no hiding things from him.

"Access granted to all of you," he agreed to those around him, mind touching the ones far above that would need to know in order to streamline the process. "The docking bays have more than room enough for-"

And then Striga was screaming, and a black queen was upon them. The one called Van took the blow, was slammed into the stands, the blue fire splattered upon him.

Kutoth wasn't the only one that lashed out with his mind, then. Maybe the old murdon had been all but stripped of his powers, but the aging man -- as he often reminded others -- was hardly helpless. As Kutoth blasted her body, Schroeder pushed past his bodyguard and blasted the queen with his mind in concert, aiming a psionic blast to bewilder, disorient. He'd overpowered weaker minds before, but that of a queen? He doubted one would fall so easily as that, but even a few moments of will exerted against her own might be enough to help get the mad king free.


@ Bug (Janardan)

As Janardan reached for the golden queen, a dart of brown-grey wheeled out of the sky on glittering white wings, shrinking as he plummeted in much the same way that the murdon had grown before.

::Heals coming in!:: he called ahead with a rush of mental imagery, identifying himself as one of the Destiny's security dragons as he banked past the murdon's fronds and landed upon Janardan's shoulder, by comparison no larger than a parrot would have been upon a human perch. Taharozhon pressed his palms to the giant and channeled a rush of healing magic into him, a power spurred by his near-divine Supernal heritage. As yautja-kin, he was immune to acid as well: therefore he was quite the antithesis to just the thing plaguing Janardan right now. A personal healing battery.


@ Dragonflight (Desh)

Janardan wasn't the only one receiving such back up. The two giant combatants couldn't be missed: not the injuries of one, nor the vast outnumbering of the other. As the dome of Death Court began to spew their flames, two more hybrids beset upon their number from the outside, for after all, the mass of backs turned to the sky made for easy targets.

With weapons of metal and gleaming plasma, they took out as many as they could, so as to lessen the rain of fire upon the towering entity.


@ Mystic (Stacurik & Co)

There was a chorus of assent from a dozen different minds directed Stacurik's way. No one had intended to fly right into the fires, anyway, but there was a visible shifting in the coordinated movements of the Destiny's security crews as the teams shuffled their numbers to greater effect, putting those with fire magics or shielding technologies towards the front line against the fire-spitting Death Court.

A mottled brown hybrid was one example front-liner, diving down past the trio to deliberately catch the brunt of an attacker's fire-burst. It splattered and stuck to his hide for sure, but though it clung and burned undeterred, it caused him no distress.

::Fire shield reporting for duty!:: he crowed to Stacurik, even as he threw himself at another Death Court. It soon fell out of the sky, wings torn and burning blue with the flames of its kin, the substance transferred by happenstance by the hybrid's claws.

[Mystic Dragon]

@Naeodin, Shard, Phe, and Bug

Information scrolled across the console’s screen too quickly to read. Interspersed with the endless stream of commands and codes were bright red imperfections. FAILED, one command prompt read. INCOMPLETE, said another. INTERRUPTED, CORRUPTED, FAILED, FAILED FAILED.

Faust snarled and slammed a fist against the command system. Whatever had dug into the Pigeon’s coding went deep.

“They’re here, they’re here, they’re here,” squawked a Pigeon cowering in the corner.

“No one is here. Shut up,” Faust snarled back. He pressed his hands to the command system, staring at the endless stream of coding. He didn’t have the knowledge or time to pick apart this mess. The Pigeons were Shy’s system. What he could do though, at least temporarily, was stop the infernal squawking.

With a few quick button presses, the console cleared of script. A new message flashed across the screen.

PROJECT 56-AT7J CODENAME: PIGEON ENTERING SLEEP MODE

The Pigeon in the corner giggled maniacally, pulling at its thin tufts of hair. The giggling quieted, turned to silence, and in a matter of seconds, the little creature slumped over as if settling in for a long sleep.

Faust breathed out a sigh of relief and straightened up. He hoped he hadn’t missed the end of the hatching. As the bald man turned toward the door of the small computer room, a muffled boom sounded overhead. He frowned at the ceiling, focused on the noise, and so he missed a step when the ground trembled beneath him. Stumbling, Faust caught himself on the hallway wall, then pushed away and started walking at a brisker pace. Something was happening outside. Something bad. This feeling of unease only heightened as he spotted Monique walking his way.

“What in the nine hells is going on out there,” he demanded.

“An attack. Hundreds of dragons calling themselves the Death Court.”

Faust’s frown deepened and his steps quickened. He had to get back outside. Get back to Shy. The urgency was a hook set in his gut and he couldn’t shake it free.

“Oh no,” Monique said, snapping a hand out to grab Faust’s arm. The bald man looked down, clearly perplexed by the vice grip. “Shy sent me to protect you. Not that I think it was a good idea, but it’s what he wants.”

The frown curled into a sneer.

“Shy sent you? To protect me?” Scorn and insult laid heavily on Faust’s voice. He yanked his arm free and took a step back. “You must be delusional. That or he said what was necessary to spare your feelings. Go predict the weather or something else equally useless. I am going where I belong.”

With that, Faust began a run/walk back down the corridor. Shy needed him. Shy had the labs, all of his pretty new friends, ships in the sky, and projects aplenty, but he needed him. Faust knew this as surely as he knew he hated the Red Mage for what she’d done to him.

Faust slammed through the doors and jogged out into the open courtyard. Chaos howled and boiled and flew all around him. Dragons filled the skies. Ships hovered over the dragons, some firing on the horde, others spilling out even more dragons to combat the spikey ones. Blood and debris littered the ground. Fire bloomed everywhere. Strange fire. Blue fire.

The absolute pandemonium shocked Faust out of his single-minded focus. And then he heard it. A deep, resonating voice that carried across all minds within range. A voice that sounded so familiar…

---

Is this how you treat your guests? Your candidates? Naxi'im's voice rolled out across the gathering. He turned away from the human pest who'd so rudely interrupted his bonding and stalked toward the end of the sands where Shy stood high above. You accepted my gifts readily enough, Shy. I have paid my dues. And I would think you would be delighted to have a true representative of the Vella Crean here to bond one of your precious creations.

---

Takith let the fire burn up from her belly. She exhaled until her lungs nearly collapsed. Until her own foot began to blister and sear. She had an incredible amount of immunity to her own blue flame, but she’d been aiming straight down at the puny human pinned onto her claws.

When the pain grew a little too intense and she ran out of breath, she let the fire stop and looked down, expecting to shake her claws free of the crispy remains. She was not expecting to see the human mostly whole (save for his hair) and still moving.

Huh. That’s not what usually happens, Takith said.

She brought her snout down to sniff at the (admittedly crispy) human, and in her moment of distraction, pain exploded along her spine and through her skull. Takith reared up, a bellow splitting the air as the raptor’s teeth tore chunks out of her neck. Something pushed at her. She spread her wings, pinwheeling to keep herself balanced, but between the pressure in her mind and the one on her back, it was too much. The black dragon fell from the edge of the stands, screaming out a wordless command to her Court as she fell.

((Shard, up to you if Van comes with or slips free.))

---

More Death Court dragons swooped down from above. Some moved immediately to Takith’s aid, harrying the raptor and human attached to her. Some flew toward the other raptors on the stands.

The yellow one dropped her front and spread her claws in a challenging gesture while her fluffy arm feathers shivered and shook. She released a high pitched screech and launched herself at the face of a green bearing down on the stands.

The green remained behind, her head bobbing and weaving as she watched dragons sweep overhead. She canted her head, golden eye fixing on Doctor Schroeder.

“Allo, c’est bonne?”

---

Pain throbbed through every part of her. The hole in her abdomen hurt most of all, without question, but the rest of her wasn’t in great shape either. Yet for all the pain, all the searing agony of being impaled by a burning stick and then having the stick yanked out (note for later, teach Imraan about first aid), the thing she felt above all else was hunger.

Striga felt the stretch and pull at her shoulders and all down her spine. It was like stretching a long cramped limb. The blood pooling around her soaked into the first tentative tendrils that wriggled their way out across the ground. They grew. They thickened into vines. They crawled blindly forward, seeking something warm to sink into.

Daddy was close. No, she would never even think of hurting daddy. Imraan too. He had his hands pressed to her wound. He was warm, he was soft. He was a friend.

The vines slid past him, caressing his arms and legs as they continued their search.

Striga, though furious, could not move. Not yet. She hurt too much. She could only stare at the sky as it darkened from the wings of an approaching blue dragon. A smile curved across her lips.

The vines snapped up, striking with the speed and accuracy of a snake. They wrapped around the blue’s legs as he tried to fly past and pulled him down. The dragon let out a surprised squawk before the stands vibrated beneath her, ringing to the sound of his crash.

Striga closed her eyes and let the sensations take over. The beat of his heart against her tendrils. The warmth of his blood in his veins. The struggle, the fury, the shock as her vines tightened, and then burrowed.

The blue thrashed and roared, furious at his inability to break free of the vines. He chewed on them, ripped at them, and yet it was as if they were made of some sort of rubbery substance that would not be cut. He flapped his wings, trying to pull himself free. His wings slowed. He bleated in concern, a thousand thoughts flying between his brothers and sisters in the sky. Then their voices grew distant, silent. He was tired. So tired. He lay down, groaning as the weight of his own body became too much to bear.

In a matter of seconds, the dark, oily colour of the blue’s hide faded to ashen gray and his eyes clouded over. He lay still atop the stands, now an empty husk.

Striga breathed in deep, savouring the warmth running through her. She opened her eyes and patted Imraan’s hand.

“Thank you, sweetie. I’m okay now,” she said. Then she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She could still feel the rage of the labs on her behalf. It sang in her veins as clear as the stolen strength. She couldn’t speak to the labs, not directly, but she pushed her will out to it. She was coming. She would rage with it.

Striga pushed herself to her feet and looked up at the skies as a dozen black, fuzzy vines twisted and coiled behind her. She stepped toward the edge of the stands, then off it, and the vines snapped down to become long, spindly legs lifting her high above the ground.

“Now then,” she said in a voice of deceptive calm, “it’s time for some payback.”

@Yakima

The blue came up short against Faroth, crashing into him with no less frenzy than he’d wanted to direct at Philippe. He locked his claws around the night blue and sucked in a deep breath. From this range, his acid could not miss.

The yellow snarled, ready to step down directly over top of Philippe. Instead, she found herself assaulted by a dragon on her back and another harrying her haunches. She hissed, whipping around to snap at Kesukiath.

The green shrieked as blood and arrows rained down upon her. Each strike felt like a snake bite, sinking deep but not enough to take her out. The barrage was endless though, and she turned so that her head was protected.

Asimath backed off another few steps. The air tasted terrible. Rotten. This little man was up to something. The faster she dealt with him, the better.

She lowered her head and narrowed her eyes as Philippe, and a single command flowed out to her subjects.

Kill him.

The green, now limping and badly wounded, whipped her head around and unleashed a gout of fire. The yellow, pinned to the stands beneath the assault of the other dragons, tilted her head down and joined her sister’s fiery blast.

---

The dragon beneath the stands made a choked sound instead of the growl it was going for. It attempted to lunge toward them, only to find an odd pressure on its throat. A growing pressure. Anger turned to panic and it began to thrash back and forth, slamming into the supports beneath them.

“Elint’s tit,” Thayer cursed, grabbing hold of a seat to try to keep his balance. “The damn thing’s going to bring this whole structure down.”

Think fast. Think fast. He could teleport, but only one at a time. It was Tiale, or one of the hatchlings. And the moment he left, the dome would drop. No, he couldn’t risk that.

The metal grating beneath his feet groaned and began to buckle.

Thayer worked his hands through a quick spell. An easy one. He had this one prepared every day. Words wove from his lips in an intricate poem of energy. He focused the spell, guided it toward the dragon, and released.

Think small think small think small.

The shaking and rattling of the stands stopped abruptly as beneath them, hanging by its foot from one of the vines was a small, fluffy brown rabbit.

@Shard

The horses reared up, and the yellow thought this to be her opportunity. She rushed in, claws and teeth ready to tear at the soft underbelly. Instead she met with the spark of crackling hooves and shrieked.

The blue tried to take advantage as well, but instead of lunging in, he crouched low and pointed his maw up at the horse, and fire spewed from his throat.

@Bug

Nemondath felt the blow vibrate through her body in a way punches were not meant to do. She grunted, momentarily stunned by the tingling along every nerve ending. She felt heavy all of a sudden. Her chest felt tight.

She grimaced, fighting through the pain, forcing her lungs open, forcing her chest to expand. It hurt, but she could move. She opened her eyes and glowered up at the towering man.

You have more than simple size shaping magics. Very well.

She dropped to all fours and backed away several feet. Nemondath was no fool, and she was not about to put herself in range of that punch again. She sucked in a breath and blasted a torrent of sticky blue fire at Janardan’s feet.

---

The blue dive bombing Dietlande took several hits from the little pistol, but if it caused any serious damage, he showed no signs. It did, at least, have the effect of throwing off his trajectory.

The blue crashed to the ground near Diet, rolling and tumbling to a halt several feet away. He rose quickly, shaking sand from his crown of horns, and turned toward Diet with a snarl.

You have a bitey little weapon. I wonder how it tastes.

@Indy

The dragon pinned beneath the ship wheezed and whined as it clawed desperately at the metal hull. Something cracked audible, and the dragon howled in agony. As it did, a splatter of acid surged up from its throat. It did not direct the spray, but let it patter across the side of the ship in a wide-spread coating.

The other brown stalked across the burning surface of the skiff, undeterred by the fire, until he noticed the trajectory He pushed off before the ship met the ground, hovering in the air over the smouldering remains.

There were humans down there. He’d seen them running. There were also two humans running in the direction of the burning ship and the shelter it guarded. The dark brown dragon came crashing to the ground behind Sabrilla and Jaliath as they ran to the entrance that Arion and his contingent had vanished into.

@Phe

The dome of dragons around Desh did not notice the new additions to the fight, and so they began to fall again, cut from the sky by weapons of all varieties. Some turned and began to engage the new defenders. Some remained focused on Desh, but the heat of their attack had lessened significantly.

---

Stacurik hovered in the air, watching these strange earth-toned dragons move with the coordinated efforts of a true fighting force. He’d seen drills at the Warren, but never actual battle. That had ended long before his time.

These dragons though, they knew their stuff. And he knew what he had to do.

Stacurik drew in a fortifying breath as he reached out to Baaki, Baneo, and this new fire shield dragon (he’d have to get a name later).

On me, the blue commanded as he picked out Renoth distantly across the sky. Baneo and Baaki had conveyed Bane’s worry for the egg, and what he’d done with it. Now he could see a flurry of dark wings chasing after the Dark Court female and her precious cargo. There’s an egg in play. We have to cover Renoth so she can get it to safety.

Stacurik dove ahead, trusting that the others would follow.

[Shard]

@Mystic and anyone else that's still being protected (if any) by Devera

The flames were disgusting, sticky, hotter than he’d expected. Van tolerated the breath weapon as long as he could, but right as he was about to become actually uncomfortable with it, the assault stopped. He felt himself being raised, shaken a little; the paw he was still being manipulated by was weaker than it should have been, by far, given that he’d yanked a decent amount of its flesh off. He pulled himself free from the remaining claws right about the time the dragoness realized that he was still alive and moving.

Something... happened. He wasn’t positive quite what it was, but realized later that someone else had attacked the dragon with a mental blast of some frequency. The floor was still reverberating with noise and the weight of dragons striking it, among other things.

He was not yet aware of the red-eyed girl’s situation, but that didn’t matter just now. What did, was that he watched the dragon reel and wobble, and then... The floor was breaking? Oh that was just great, he didn’t even know what was below it?

And he might have been okay with falling, might have been just fine with tackling the dragoness somewhere below, be it in water or rumbling through the structure itself. But as he glanced around (tossing his head somewhat stronger than he needed to, he was used to a drape of hair that required some amount of effort to swing over his shoulders and it was all gone - whoops) and spotted something.

Some one, he reminded himself, and that someone was the small golden and steel-blue dragonet that stood at the edge of the seating area. He precariously clung with his still-sharp but still-new claws, attempting not to fall bodily off the edge. And, he was being menaced by a drooling, angry looking dragon that had fallen onto the area not long before.

Van might have engaged the big dragoness once more, as she was a bit addled and having issues of her own which would have made any attacks that much easier to follow through. But Van had no intention of leaving behind this dragon. He was in the King’s care, and the nightmarish curse that had been on him for the vast majority of his six-thousand-year life meant that Van knew the pain of losing someone that was entrusted to his ‘care’.

Bitterly, he spat a curse of his own at that long-dead asshole, and clutched the dragon’s leg. Climbing quickly, like a scampering seven-foot-tall squirrel (sans big fluffy tail, also sans clothing, which had all been burnt off rather quickly with that blue fire), Van ran physically up the dragon’s neck, and leapt off her head toward the stands. The pressure of his feet, the purchase they got on her muzzle, and the fact that he sprung off of the nearest long slender horn... Broke that horn, and caused her head to dip with his liftoff.

He dove across twenty feet of space, realizing that the stands were little more than rubble at this point, and rolled when he reached the dragonet.

“Curl up!” he yelled, just before impact - he grabbed the dragon, who had done just as he asked more on reflex than because of a command, and they tumbled closer to where the sands had been not three minutes earlier.

He was in a crouch, one knee on the ground, and the other keeping the dragonet from falling, not pressed too tightly against his own chest. The little but fierce dragonet opened his eyes, and then closed them again, there were so many things going wrong, and Phantasos pressed his head under Van’s chin. It was by far safer there, even though he’d literally watched this human be stepped on and been breathed-on with flames...

The son is in your rooms, the dragonet thought carefully, the daughter is nearby. The son took both of my clutch siblings, they are in safety.

Those things were true, Van saw Devera’s steeds... though his daughter was a little harder to spot.

**

Had she been able to spare even a moment’s glance back up to the stands and beyond, Devera would have seen not only her now-bald and currently naked father leap a gap no normal man might have attempted, but ... she would have been witness to the dangerous and extremely odd death of one of the nearby invading dragons. She wanted to see more of that either way, but it was the specific dragon that had been sucked dry of blood and whatever else, by tendrils that led into... Striga?

But she had not spared that moment, because two of the three annoying invaders were still attempting to eat her. And worse: one of them bent down and aimed his horrible fire up at one of them from below!

There was - nothing - she could do about that, the horse might live, but it screamed with pain and even more anger than before, and Devera’s concentration over the horse lapsed thanks to both. She realized that she was mostly alone, and that a retreat was in order. But where? She didn’t want to physically run, she was agile and swift and silent, but this was all... just so sudden. Her instincts as a ‘thief’ weren’t exactly as strong as her mother’s, nor her father’s, and neither of them had seen fit to challenge her quite so dramatically to see if she would freeze under pressure.

She did not freeze, she didn’t even pause. Instead she focused her ire on the blue dragon breathing flames at her horse. “Wrong target,” she hissed, “you have the wrong target.” Forcing all of her will on that dragon, she intended it to rise, and turn its fire and claws instead on his yellow colored sister, who was stunned by the clattering of the other horse’s hoof on her face.

The burned horse would have to figure out where to go from there, if he lived. Devera then spun and jumped onto the massive female, looking around for anyone else that might still be left to protect. The shield that her brother had supplied was gone, with his distance apparently, it had lasted just long enough. They would run, even if she didn’t know the halls here, they were smaller than dragons could chase, but still big enough to hold a galloping, spark-hoofed steed and several riders if needed.

[Yakima]

@Mystic (and anyone else near fallen, dead Death Court dragons...)

The flame that would have engulfed him fell around the elf harmlessly as he threw up a shield. Philippe was a statue within his eyes never breaking from the green queen that had just ordered his death. He did not die easily. After all, he had tried to kill himself once - even throwing himself off a cliff had failed spectacularly. All this for a single egg, he thought, then absentmindedly wondered just what kind of dragon his brother had just bonded. Not that there was time for that at the moment.

When the attack was over, Philippe watched her, seeming almost oblivious to what was going on around him. The Lab itself was attacking yet he did not seem to notice. The Abstract Destiny had called in more support and it did not phase him. His mind was hyper-focused and as cold as ice.

Philippe sighed. So be it...we do this the hard way.

“Savu erik-te[*pronounced more like “sah-voo air-eck-tea”],” the elf whispered, his voice deathly calm as he raised his arms.

The dead rose, spreading tattered, broken wings from all over the Hatching sands and beyond. Some were forced to fight against the Lab itself, unable to break free because the entity controlling the Lab thought they were still the enemy. They struggled even as others stood back up as if waiting for a command. They did not attack anyone around them, their eyes, glowing bright blue and twisted with a sickly green that seemed to race like veins along with their bodies, turned to the sky.

"Erike ." ["air-eye-kee”]

The undead dragons launched into the air and began to attack their former brethren soundlessly, the miasma a cloud around them like a necrotic shadow. It was not all of them but the sheer number of undead that rose to rejoin the fight on the other side was staggering.

The necrotic energy slammed into the remaining three dragons. The blue who had been about to cover Faroth in blue fire suddenly found his target not where he was, the molten flame on the ground and Faroth not. Up here, ugly, Faroth told the blue’s mind, hovering above him. The blue blinked. Faroth was the size of a firelizard...again. My rider taught me a few tricks, too, wherry-dung, Faroth smirked before activating the harness once again and slamming into the blue with his full size, his jaws around the creature's throat in a death grip.

As the yellow screamed, Hontori ranked his talons alongside the yellow’s flank and Kesukiath, having sustained most of the damage, snarled and whipped the yellow’s head back around before. The necrotic energy had all but healed the undead dragon fully and Kesukiath smirked. “Join your brethren,” the black dragon snarled before both he and Hontori let the yellow have the full force of their breath weapons - Kesukiath's black-tinged flames and Hontori's light. The body dropped to the ground and the miasma from Philippe's spell rushed into a new body, and the yellow dragon twitched for a moment before rising again, its body still bloody and charged from their attack. One eye, the one not burnt, opened to glow with bright blue and green light.

The blue, released from Faroth's death grip toppled to the ground lifeless with a broken neck that still seeped blood. The night blue turned snarling with wings outstretched as he crouched protectively behind his rider; if his faceted eyes could glow any more red they would have at that moment. They were also tinged with worry and fear for Philippe's mind was becoming quite dark and Faroth was having trouble keeping his rider grounded.

Nearby, Aenon let out a whoop when the yellow dragon rose from death. He looked at Jarel with a villainous smirk. “Let's give him one more for his little army,” Aenon smirked at Jarel and Randaril who both nodded grimly. As Aenon and Jarel both released their spells with a word; black flame rushed toward the green, writhing in the miasma of Philippe’s spell, and Jarel sent a searing bolt into her hide. Randaril released another volley of arrows in quick succession, his keen eyes picking out vital points on her body. She fell to the ground and breathed her last with a shudder.

Miasma rushed into her corpse. She rose, hide scorched, arrows sticking out on one side from Ril's form, alongside the blue who held his head at an odd angle, their eyes glowing blue. With an unspoken command, the three leaped into the air and hovered, looking at the green queen, waiting. Several others under Philippe's control shifted to form a circle around her.

Philippe smirked. Not the normal mischievous smirk he typically had. This was the smirk of a man who was going to enjoy watching her die.

Three dragons landed around Philippe who stood, staring at the green. A tiny white-copper, a shadow-like blue-sized wraith who all but shimmered with an aura of fire and necromancy, and his own Faroth who stood behind him. Aenon, Jarel and Randaril rushed to flank the Islan blue rider but he glanced at Aenon and shook his head. “Not me...get to the others,” Philippe ordered, his voice so emotionless that both Jarel and Aenon looked at each other, then darted off. Randaril hesitated, unable to tear his eyes away from the undead dragons above him. "Ril...go. You need to protect Menelith...and Tiale." Randaril hesitated, then quickly followed. He was quite pale but Philippe could not think about his brother right now. This wasn't an easy spell, at least this version of it. And he had never tested it on dragons.

Stay with me, old friend, Philippe told Faroth who growled softly behind him as he turned fully back to the green queen.

Always.

Philippe didn't think he could disintegrate this queen as easily as he had the brown, but he wondered just how well she would like being ripped apart by those that she had ordered to kill him...

He had been patient, He had tried to give her a choice. But he was beyond that now. Kesukiath and Faroth, both around the same size, and Hontori, the smallest of the three, crouched and waited, snarling even as Aenon and Jarel rushed to flank the Islan blue rider.

“You think I am playing?” Philippe asked the green queen, his tone quiet, even, and deathly cold. “Then let us play.” He raised his hand with a spell shimmering under his fingers. “Because I am more than a little angry, bitch...”

---

Randaril stumbled and fell, shaking like a leaf in a storm. He felt sick, terrified. Past memories were drowning him yet his heart was torn between grabbing his brother and running away from all of this. The fact that the undead was his brothers doing was still processing. Menelith touched his mind and even Faroth took a moment to promise the crowned prince that Philippe was still in control, however, for Randaril it was more than just fear that his brother would fully fall to this power he wielded. He felt helpless because, once again, Philippe did not need his help and all Randaril could do was run.

Just like the day Astrael was attacked...

He does, Randaril, Faroth told him. He will need you to pull him back.

Randaril shook his head, disbelieving his brother's own dragon. Faroth was Philippe's anchor, not him. Why was Faroth saying he needed him instead. He was shaking from fear and cold, the tears blinding him as he stood, paralyzed. He had known what Philippe was about to do but seeing it was bringing back memories that had haunted him for hundreds of years without resolution. As the landscape around him buckled and shifted, lashing out at the dragons in the sky, he realized that all he wanted to do now was run. But where? Faroth was injured, as was Hontori. Kesukiath was healing as fast as he received wounds because of all the necrotic energy within the area. Was it safe for them to teleport injured like this or could the wraith dragon get them out? Aenon and Jarel ran past him and he grabbed Aenon's arm. "We have to get out."

Aenon glared at the prince, ripping his arm away. "You run. I will stand by your brother and..."

Ril snarled. "No! We have to get out!"

Jarel took Randaril and pulled him away from his friend. The two looked about to attack each other. "Hontori," the young mage whispered, even though his dragon was a little busy much farther away. "Alert Aravon..."

"No, Amarion has this," Aenon snapped.

Jarel slapped him across the face. "Even your precious legendary necromancer has fucking limits, Aenon! It's not like he uses this magic every day, and when he can't keep it going, what then? No...Randaril is right. And he has a very young dragon to think of." He looked over at Tiale and Thayer. "What about Iarion?"

Aenon was still glaring at Jarel, rubbing his cheek. "Iarion? That lazy ball of feathers wouldn't lift a claw if I bribed him..."

"Ask anyway. He can carry ten times his weight and I doubt even these dragons could lay a scratch on him if he stopped being lazy for two seconds and actually used that damn power he brags about. He adores Tiale...he'll come. Call him."

Aravon is readying a wing. Faroth has alerted Isla Weyr, Hontori informed his rider.

Jarel winced at that. He didn't know just what good the Pernese dragons had against Death Court dragons but...then again, J'ren had been willing to bring a wing of dragons to go against the Lich Lord of Sentra. Fine, just have Faroth warn J'ren that these guys don't play with fire that going between will fix, as far as I know. Hontroi relayed the message. Of course, how long it took for J'ren and Lord Aravon to get their fighters in the air and to the Lab was unknown. And even more uncertain was if that lazy phoenix back at Treval Magic Academy was going to get off his tailfeathers and come get Tiale and her hatchling out of harm's way.

"Okay...well, apparently we have help arriving eventually," Jarel said, glancing at Aenon who had his face winced together and eyes closed - he was apparently arguing with Iarion who was no doubt asking a million questions why he and Jarel couldn't handle the situation on their own like two adult men...at least that was Jarel's take on the possible words being said between them. "Until then...we're going to get to those two," Jarel said, pointing to Thayer and Tiale, "and those hatchlings. You," and he jabbed Randaril in the chest, hard, "get back to your brother. He needs you. Trust me."

Randaril took a deep breath. Go, came the young bronze's voice in his head. The prince turned to look at his dragon who nodded. He does need you. You are his brother.

Fighting the well of emotion from those words, Randaril set his jaw and nodded, then, fitting an arrow to his string, turned to race back to Philippe. When he looked above, he watched with a sickening horror as a Death Court dragon began to fall lifelessly from the sky, only to snap its wings open just before hitting the ground, eyes glowing blue like the other of its undead breather. Shit, he thought, ripping his eyes from the horrible scene above him. The air was so cold around him now that he could see his breath in the air. Not that he needed proof of necromancy being used. He had plenty of proof of that with the miasma veins on the ground and the undead dragons in the air. What the fuck spell did you cast, Amar...

---

Tiale looked down at the dragon-now-rabbit. She looked up at Thayer. “Wonder if he tastes good like that,” she said with a slight smirk.

[indyana]

@Mystic, @Dragonflight for Jaliath involvement, @Naeodin for general Labs involvement
((Left an opening for Sabrilla or Jalaith to talk to Sovereign Stelte or the guards before all hell breaks loose in that corridor... Feel free to make up dialogue for them as NPCs. XD #SorryNotSorry))

They hadn't gotten far when there was noise in the corridor behind them, back in the direction of the sands. The unencumbered guards hurried to raise their rifles, but Arion recognized the sound of footsteps.

"Hold your fire," Sovereign Stelte commanded, hearing the same.

The two people who rushed into view were both clutching baby dragons of their own, and Arion recalled them as fellow candidates, the young Nobili of House Coranaet (Sabrilla) and the Kynnese Astral Crescent Crown Prince (Jaliath). They had no guards and looked to be fleeing the sands as well.

There was a squealing and rumbling that echoed up the tunnel behind them, then a growl.

You think you can hide inside? We'll see about that…

It was another enemy dragon. It might not be able to fit into the tunnel, but Arion remembered the fire that had taken down one of their skiffs all too well.

"Quickly, the shei—Ah!"

Arion was overcome with a sensation that burned along his wings and into his skull, and he toppled forward, barely having the thought to land hard on locked elbows and keep himself from collapsing onto Apheidath. The oily magic subtone that had left him uneasy about the Labs during his stay rose up like a flood, making his wings feel saturated and sticky, while at the same time, a fierce rage impacted his mind. It was directionless, seeming to come from all around them, and Arion couldn't block it out. He clutched his head and stayed wrapped around his young dragon. Over the pulsing beat of blood in his ears, he heard another rumble, and muffled words from the people gathered above him. The ground beneath him shuddered, and the walls around them began cracking and groaning. Arion forced his head up and eyes open, even though the overpowering soup of magic and emotion was making it difficult.

The walls were breaking. For a confused moment, Arion thought the dragon outside was breaking in somehow, but the ground gave a roll beneath them and then split as well. Thick vines emerged from the ground and immediately made for the royalty and hatchlings. There were screams and cries of alarm, and Arion barely had time to react as two vines twined around his waist and arms, wrapping Apheidath to his chest as they were bodily pushed through a crack and dropped outside, barely any distance from the sands at all. He dizzily pushed himself back onto his hands and knees, caging in his golden companion, and looked up to see a dark brown dragon eyeing them, far too close. It smiled.

A meal delivered right to me! the dragon laughed. It lunged, closing the distance in a few easy bounds.

There was nothing left for Arion to feel but dread, and it overrode everything, from the grim bravery of the hatchling beneath him to the gnawing fury that emanated from everywhere at once. He let the terror completely blank his mind, and as it surged outward, his wing feathers blazed with brilliant gold light. A wave of fear blasted outward from him, causing the charging dragon's stride to falter.

Nearby, the entrance corridor to the Labs had completely split into odd jointed pieces surrounded by lashing plant growth, and the segments rose up into the air, towering above the oncoming dragon like snakes preparing to strike.

[StarFyre]

@mystic

Renoth trumpeted her fury at the twisted Blood Court Gold who veered at her. ::I will do no such thing!:: she shot back, tucking the egg closer to her breast and snapping her wings closed. She dropped. Let the other gold skim over her. Snapped her wings back open and skimmed the sands before driving herself up-up-up into the sky, ignoring the way her wings screamed at the unplanned acrobatics.

::I don't recall agreeing to a Flight today!:: Renoth snapped as she rolled away from a Blue, tail barb sinking into his shoulder and ripping down his back; she didn't know if the brief encounter had been enough to inject her venom into his body, but the pained shriek he gave was certainly pleasing. ::None of you interest me, either!::

A rumbling chuckle slid into her mind as fireballs zipped past, briefly scattering her pursuers, as Darasath said, ::I would certainly worry if any of this lot interested you.::

At Darasath's feet, Beryl, Michiyo, and Varix launched themselves at any enemy that landed nearby, doing their best to take the spiky dragons out before they could bother Darasath. Aminath did her best to help, staring at each dragon as they landed and trying to determine any information that her bonded could use to more quickly take the enemies out.

And then--

::Seriously bad timing!:: Renoth yelped as she felt the egg shudder in her grasp, a large crack forming. ::Seriously bad time to hatch, little one!:: She adjusted her grip slightly, trying to give the hatchling space to free itself without otherwise endangering itself. Which was... hard. Given that she was still playing acrobatic games with various Extra Spiky versions of Court dragons.

She rolled. Lashed out with her tail. Wished desperately that she had magic or fireballs or anything else and then firmly set that wish aside in order to focus--

There were dragons that weren't Extra-Spiky Court dragons heading towards her.

::Coming through!:: she declared as she closed her wings and dropped, only to snap them open moments later and arrow straight towards the newcomers. If they kept their current altitude she would skim just below them, which would hopefully scrape off some of her pursuers. ::Egg's hatching!:: she informed them breathlessly, hoping that they were on her side and that she wasn't about to be pounced upon as she passed. ::Any plans?::

[Mystic Dragon]

@Shard

As Takith fell, she twisted, arching her neck back in hopes of snapping at Van’s leaping form. She missed, catching only air between her teeth, and howled her frustrations to the air. She twisted again, righting her body and snapping her wings out at the last possible second.

The black dragoness swooped up over the roiling ground, narrowing avoiding a fissure of gnashing teeth that had opened up behind the stands. As she rose into the sky, she sent out a scream of fury to her Court.

Cut them down! Burn them all! But the bald one is mine!

---

Striga floated above the chaos, suspended by the spindly, black vines that had erupted from her back. Her finely crafted qipao was a mess of blood and tattered ends, barely maintaining any sort of decency for her anymore. She ignored the ruined fabric, though the thought of it rankled, and looked about the field for her next target. The hunger burned hot and bright in her stomach. One life hadn’t been enough.

Skittering with the speed and agility of a spider, Striga rounded the stands and came upon a scene of some distress. Two of the beautiful horses that daddy loved so dearly were under attack from three dragons, and Devera with them.

With a cackle of delight, Striga swarmed over the brown dragon as the blue turned on his stunned sister and lashed into her with claws and teeth.

The brown stood little chance against the vines. They wrapped around his neck and sank into his hide, pinning him down as securely as a net. Striga swayed out of reach of the dragon’s snapping jaws as it writhed and screamed under the assault. Then it stilled, and its deep, oily brown hide turned ashen.

“Hello, darling,” Striga called cheerfully to Devera as her vines uncoiled from the limp body and once more raised her up on spidery stilts. She skittered in closer as the yellow dragon succumbed to a vicious bite from its mind-controlled brother. “I was hoping to save this surprise until at least the third date, but it seems life had other plans. Should we perhaps move somewhere a little less exposed?”

@Yakima

Thayer’s attention had shifted beyond Tiale. Something prickled at his senses. Something cold and unpleasant. He could barely see Philippe down below, writhed in dark light and in the midst of working some sort of spell. The three dragons around him rose up, death clouding their eyes, and yet mobile nonetheless.

Out on the sands, making a mad dash for an entrance now half-buried by a burning ship, he spotted Sabrilla and a tall man in a wide-brimmed hat. The red tint of his dome obscured details, but he recognized Sabrilla regardless.

He watched as the entrance she ran to split into segmented tendrils and rose up into the air, vines wriggling out of the former doorway like feelers on a crab. Sabrilla and Jaliath were now pinned between the sentient building and a brown Death Court dragon.

And Bane was nowhere in sight.

“Probably like very pissed off dragon,” Thayer replied absently. His attention returned to Tiale, but the joking attitude had vanished. He looked serious, and perhaps a little scared. “That spell will hold for an hour unless it takes any damage. If it does well… we’re right back to square one. Listen, this is not a sustainable situation. I thought we could weather whatever this is by staying under the dome, but this whole structure is about to collapse under us and they seem quite eager to speed that along.” Thayer made a quick, all-encompassing gesture at the dragons overhead, the ones on the sands, and the rabbit beneath them. “I can’t teleport all of us at once, but I can give you and the two hatchlings the ability to fly. Once I do, no more bunny.” Thayer pointed out, across the sands to the labs, and the welcome center beyond. “There’s shelter just over there. Take them and fly as fast as you can. I will cover you. Are you ready?”

---

Asimath narrowed her eyes, studying this pathetic little creature in a new light. The mages of the Vella Crean were never quite this powerful. He’d turned her own subjects against her.

The dark green queen took a step back, and then another, her wings flaring wide.

You have tricks, she purred to Philippe, but they can’t last forever.

Her attention turned to Faroth. Such a loyal creature. Such a shame.

You are quite strong. And I see you have tricks of your own. Yet you wear the yolk of your master as if you’re proud of it. As if you enjoy being a slave. It’s a shame. If you ever come to your senses, know that the Death Court offers you freedom. If you survive, that is.

With a sudden shriek, Asimath took to the air, calling down several more Death Court dragons in her wake. Two reds, their hides as deep as dried blood, and a violet dragon the colour of an old bruise spiralled down to the sands.

Kill them! Focus on the elf. Do not let up until they’re ash!

@starfyre

Four dragons arrowed toward Renoth, led by a small, lithe blue. The violet dragoness to his right trumpetted her fury before unleashing another blast of violet flyme on one of Renoth’s pursuers. The red to his left….

EEE-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Baneo cackled madly as he dove straight into the face of a Death Court blue. The blue attempted to get off a blast of acid, but Baneo pointed his muzzle straight in the blue’s face and blasted him with a flame so bright red it looked more like lava. The blue fell from his grasp, little more than char left of his face, and Baneo laughed again as he picked out another target.

Could you maybe enjoy this a little less, Baaki admonished her brother. She flew into locked combat with another Death Court dragon, halting that one’s dogged chase of Renoth.

Nope, Baneo called back all too cheerfully. Can’t hear you over how much fun I’m having. Come here, spikey. I want to wear your crown!

Stacurik ignored the banter of his companions as he locked his claws around the wings of a Death Court red and yanked them back. The red squawked in indignation, and they both began to plummet. As it twisted and turned to get at the Alksyrian dragon, Stacurik raked his hindclaws through the red’s sails and pushed away, leaving it to pinwheel rapidly toward the ground.

I suppose we upgrade our references to it from egg to hatchling, Stacurik sent to Renoth as he wheeled around to shadow the Dark Court’s flight. We need to get it inside where it’s safe. Think we can get it to the welcome center before it fully hatches?