(SW of Celen's Fall) Hunting to Kill (17th Board)

Entirely unable to follow the conversation, Jitt simply watched the other three dragons with wide eyes until Syntribos turned to him and spoke, clearly to him.
“A pit?” he echoed, wide-eyed. Hardly a second passed before attention seemed to return to the spirit, and he looked up at it as Fenrir spoke. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave- those bone things weren’t bothering him here, and the lightning creatures which had been outside were not something he felt a need to return to any time soon. All the same… did he really want to be left here on his own, if all the others left? The spirit would help, he was sure- until it hurled itself at Fenrir.
Unlike the others, Jitt didn’t muster the presence of mind to flee, but instead hurled himself to the ground with his claws tucked in tight to his chest and his wings curved over his sides in a smooth canopy. The screaming seemed to fade away until he couldn’t hear it anymore- and then he felt a slight brush against one of his wings. Immediately he sprang back to his feet, waving his claws in great arcs before him in an attempt to strike whatever it was. All he managed to do was graze his left foot with his right claw as they flew past each other, and after a few moments he conceded defeat and licked his injury warily, looking about for the thing he had felt.
When he saw the spirit thing sitting patiently on the floor beside him, he gave a whimper and shuffled away.
“I don’t get many visitors,” it told him sadly. “You’re the first people I’ve spoken to in years, and what did that one do? He brought in more lightning. What a horrible feeling, pulled two ways- different lightning shouldn’t be mixed.” It shuddered, took a moment to compose itself, and continued. “Of course, the furry one, I didn’t mean to scare him too. I’m glad you stayed. Somebody to talk to.”

Jitt simply gaped at it for a few moments before clapping his jaw shut and scrutinising the little creature through narrowed eyes. Flashes of its needle-like teeth were exposed every time it talked, and given how vicious it had seemed with them a moment ago, he didn’t entirely trust it now. It must have some kind of plan or scheme, surely… Well, he would just have to outplay it.
“Where does this tunnel go?” he inquired craftily.
“There’s… lots of the crystal. It goes down, deep down… getting closer. Then there’s… waterfalls. And more tunnels, more crystals, then…” An expression of intense distraction came over the spirit’s face and it bounded, with several smooth leaps, straight into the crystal. Just like when it had arrived, a softly glowing point of light grew out in fading circles before disappearing completely. Jitt was left not quite sure what had happened, but it didn’t take him long to decide that rejoining Syntribos and Fenrir would be best. The other little one… well, he didn’t know what had happened to it and it couldn’t really be a dragon anyway. Stumbling clumsily down the slope, the scythe claw took off after the others.

Dyavol was about ready to laugh at the two dragons haring off down the tunnel away from the spirit (which as far as Dyavol could tell didn’t even have any weight), and even watched with some amusement as Jitt spoke to it, before the thing turned back to face him. “What, you want some? Come on then, little wisp.” he spat, trying to stare it out. It did have a lot of teeth… maybe they would hurt after all. It was unnerving to think that he could actually see through the spirit a little, but as he felt the breeze on his scales as it got closer, he bared his own fangs and gave a snarl.

The spirit hurtled into him, and seemed rather solid all of a sudden. His teeth bit at its leg, and it shouted something, before Dyavol pulled himself away and hovered beside the angry but stationary spirit. “See, you don’t provide such a welcoming hall here. Tell me what this is all about,” he said through clenched teeth, indicating the chaos with his wing, “Or I’ll bite off one of your little legs. I don’t like things with two legs at the best of times, and you just got on my nerves.” He hoped it sounded threatening – the spirit was about the same size as him, but was probably used to much larger foes. His shoulder throbbed where the spirit had gotten it’s claw-like nails under a few scales, but the attack had been so brief that no real damage was done on either side. Maybe now the spirit would be more inclined to speak properly.
((lemme know if there’s a problem, not sure how well I understood what was going on over the last couple a posts))

Syntribos skidded after Fenrir as fast as his legs would carry him, uncaring as to the fact that they had just left Jitt behind (the dragon was a simpleton, it was clear to see), and Dyavol too. No doubt the little vicious butterfly dragon would think of the spirit as quite the exciting challenge to try and take on as an enemy.

The tunnel was lined with dimly glowing crystals, mostly sticking off the roof and walls, but a few breaking up the floor too, making the path more difficult than it should have been- but this was a monsterland, who said that the way would be easy? At least it wasn’t completely dark, the crystals giving on the smallest amount of light, enough to be able to see a couple of steps ahead of where he was going. That didn’t stop the desert chaser from stumbling as the slope they were running down suddenly dipped under his feet though, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap. His eyes were wild and searching as he scrambled back up to his feet, glancing behind him to see if they were being followed- either by dragons or otherwise, probably a horde of skeletons at the rate that they had been travelling. He didn’t really want to know, in all honesty. So he kept going, dashing back down the path as it sloped downwards, dodging round crystals, his ears pinned back against his head as a low rumbling sound started to fill the air, terror driving him forwards…

He only stopped when the roaring grew suddenly louder and he skidded through a jet of water that fell down onto the path, soaking him instantly right to the skin. Fur plastered soddenly down all over, he yelped to himself and dug his claws into the ground, sliding to a halt on the wet rock, looking up at the waterfall that fell through from a hole in the ceiling into a pool in the middle of the cavern that he had ended up in. The rock around the pool was soaked, a couple of errant jets of water pouring onto the rock here and there- such a thing had gotten Syntribos all wet, and now he was shivering from it. A dark hole in the opposite wall continued the passage downwards- this one didn’t look as natural, however- and the crystals had slowly run out, until the room was barely visible now. That was why he hadn’t seen the jet that had now made him soaking. And cold. Gods, that water was cold.

Somewhere on his way down – down where?!? – Fenrir began to wonder whether it had been a good idea to take off like that but he didn’t pause long enough to properly consider this question. He merely wanted to get away from that awfully toothy thing. It had just been too odd, and too much of a compulsion to keep looking at the light. Frankly, it had scared the wolf dragon, though he would probably never admit it and rant away grumpily as ever if anyone dared ask.

The lighting in the tunnel was eerie and it reminded him an awful lot of the light emanating from the spirit he was currently running from. When he suddenly heard something chasing after him, he picked up more speed in front until he realised that it was in fact the tapping of dragon’s claws behind him – crashing to the ground! but picking themselves up again -, so Fenrir slowed down again a little, even letting the dragon overtake him. These sorts of adventures might be better handled in groups after all.
Even if he wasn’t too fond of Syntribos.

Barely moments after the desert chaser had crashed into the ground, Fenrir stumbled as well, barely managing to hold his balance. And only just in time as well. Frantically trying to stop behind Syn so he wouldn’t crash into the dragon, he finally managed to slow his descent by scraping along the floor on his belly, coming to a halt in a puddle of water. Drenched from top to bottom, like Syn, Fenrir grunted as he got back onto his feet, staring ahead of them.

“You’d think we’re underneath the Ice Plains by the feel of this,” Fenrir stuttered as he tried not to shiver too much but failing miserably. “What do we do now? This place looks odd, and frankly, not very friendly.” He too had noticed how little light there suddenly was left and he wasn’t sure he quite liked it. “As much as the spirit was scary and annoying, at least the crystals produced some light. Much preferable to the dark that now lies ahead.”

Before Fenrir could say anything else, his ears picked up the quick tapping of claws hitting stone, making the wolf dragon swivel around quickly, ready for an oncoming attack. Luckily for them, it was not an army of spirits but merely Jitt, who had followed them down the tunnel. “”Watch your feet,” he called out in a grunt, not looking forward to being pushed further into the cavern or the water by a scythe claw acting taking on the abilities of a plow.

The big skeleton that came at her opened its mouth to roar, but as it had no vocal chords, there was no sound. Just the clattering of bones. With a ripple of muscle she leapt forward to better maneuver away from the entrance to the smaller caves leading down further into the earth an spun with her front claws digging into the hard stone. Her clubbed tail came around and smashed through the fragile mobile bones, splitting the creature's skull into a thousand shards that exploded across the opposite side of the cave, pelting the wall. The rest of the creature kept coming even without its head however, rattling as it ran straight into her flank and collapsed in a pile of bones and dust that skittered around her clawed feet. She saw the bones trying to reassemble themselves and quickly put an end to that, using her vast weight to simply crush the bones under her feet until there was little left but powder. Vy only saw out of the corner of her eye as Syn darted out of the room and down into the caves, followed by scatterbrained Jitt. She would deal with those two later when they weren't fighting for their lives.

The flames of her sister's fire lit up the cave briefly, blinding her to the black magic that snaked out and leeched the life from the bones that tried to reform despite their shattered state. With all of the other magic going on in the room, she didn't even notice the shards drop back to the floor without their base magic to support them any more and surveyed the scene, bounding over to join the small group gathering about the euphorn, her tail shattering bone creatures as she passed them by. She spit fire onto a skeleton that had risen from the ashes, as of yet completely burned away and reduced it to a swirl of ash on the breeze created in the cave by all their fighting. The pile of bones had been reduced to splinters and ashes, what ever surviving whole pieces were left apparently no longer had the magic to sustain animation and so lay still on the cave floor. With a snort she clawed a thigh bone away, sending it flying into the darkness and turned to the others behind her, examining them for damage. "Is no one hurt?" She asked of the general assembly, first making sure that she did a thorough once over of her sister to make sure she wasn't harmed.

All in all no one seemed to be missing limbs, though she did note that their newest Tear Dragon was looking particularly downtrodden. She couldn't even begin to fathom the reason why. While doing the head count she noticed that more of their members had gone missing; the moody Fenrir and her particular favorite Dyavol was not among the head count. She'd already seen Syn and Jitt flee for the lower caverns and quietly hoped that the desert chaser had met a bad end at the edge of a cliff for his cowardice. They had little choice but to continue on the way that the deserters had gone, she was committed to the task now, and there was no changing that.

The other dragon seemed to finish fighting quite suddenly, as the bone creature stopped reforming, and Dyavol turned to watch what he could, with his teeth just ready to sink into the leg of the spirit that had so annoyed him when he realised the pesky fairy-thing had vanished. Damn the miniature, glowy two-leg! When the group moved in his general direction (presumably looking for a way out) he was all too eager to point the way Syn and Jitt had gone. “Nice to see no one’s been killed yet.” He smirked. He fluttered out of the way of the larger dragons, and clung on to the stone walls of the pit with his tiny claws, giving his aching wing muscles a rest. He had a feeling the rest of the journey towards the lightning stone would be much like the start, and he’d need all the energy he had. He wanted to kill something before they left the blasted hole, and neither of the two kinds of monster so far had complied with that plan.

--

Finally the bone monsters all stopped moving, and the nasty magic that had been bothering Oceianna seemed to lull. She perked up a little, huddling into the main group of dragons so that she couldn’t get left behind. She had been doing well against these monsters until the odd magic started to interfere with her own powers, so she had high hopes for her future with ME.

“Nobody’s hurt, are they?” she asked quietly, still hopeful to find an opportunity to really help. Once she showed that she could really help, she was sure the others would agree to keep her around. She couldn’t survive without them, she knew it, and was desperate to secure her place.

She moved through the others, but no one seemed to be injured. She made her way all the way to the front of the group, near the tunnel that the butterfly dragon was in. She paid little attention to the odd lighting, but looked down the tunnel instead. That had to be their next target, and she couldn’t see any reason to hang about.

He might not have been paying too much attention to controlling his descent, but the yelp from Syntribos came early enough for Jitt to slow himself and enter the new cavern with some caution- and heed Fenrir’s words of caution. Slack-jawed, he took in the waterfall which cascaded down before him and stood in horrified misery for a few moments. Water. He didn’t know why, but he hated water. Something which had happened… maybe.

Whatever the cause, he needed to do something about his current predicament. He had to get past the waterfall to reach the others… Without his brain really coming into the equation, he drew himself up and unleashed a wide, billowing cloud of flames around him. As he walked through the water it was turned to steam, giving him the time he needed to pass under it without getting wet. Pleased with his achievement, Jitt beamed at Fenrir and Syntribos- and then registered exactly where they were. Water from the falls, now flowing freely again, trickled over his feet and splashed him on its way to the huge lake he now faced. Swaying on his feet, the scythe claw blinked several times and, when the horror before him didn’t go anywhere, turned to the others in panic.
“What do we do?” he moaned.

As the last of their opponents fell, still somewhat inexplicably, Anækileya shook out her head spikes and made her way swiftly to lead ME on through the caves alongside her sister. Miraculously, there were no injuries past minor scratches, which were easily taken care of by their healing dragons; she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at how they had fought. There didn’t appear to be any way out of the cavern they found themselves in now other than the same way Syntribos- and, perhaps, some others- had fled, and so they headed in that direction. Dyavol’s tiny form made a dark silhouette against the glowing crystals, and as she passed him she dipped his head to offer him a ride on it- he got tired easily, being so small and trying to keep up with all the others.

Treading carefully, the dragons made their way down through the passage in decent time and with little event. It was surprisingly easy to adjust to the light of the crystals and the deep silence of being underground; her fire would have seemed out of place in this cool, soft light. It was a strange contrast to emerge to the sound of voices and roaring splash of a waterfall.
“Syntribos. Fenrir. And… who have we here?” Her voice was terse as she regarded the three dragons. She expected this kind of thing from the desert chaser, of course… it wasn’t even all that surprising from Fenrir. No member of ME was forced to fight, but deserters were not tolerated- and she had no wish to execute either of them.

The skeleton creatures were certainly annoying, Temero had to give them that. In the chaos of the battle and the movement all around him, Temero could only focus on the next opponent who appeared before him, having no time to look for any of his companions and make sure they were doing all right. Though he did catch a glimpse of Dyavol in the air fighting what had probably once been a bird of some sort. Good, at least he was doing all right. For his part Temero just kept scattering bones everywhere, doing what he could to assist in destroying the strange beasts that were coming at them.

And then they all just fell apart.

Temero was left blinking in confusion for a moment, battle lust still coursing through his veins. Well, that was surprising. The wolf dragon quickly gathered himself and followed the others, glancing at Oceianna when she spoke. "Just fine," he replied simply, a little impressed. She must have done well enough in the battle since she was still alive and well.

He saw Dyavol perched on the wall and approached as best he could. "Want a ride?" he asked softly before seeing that Anækileya had already offered and shrugging slightly. That was all right, he didn't really care one way or another. Hopefully they would be able to complete their mission and get out of here soon before something went really wrong. Of course, considering they promptly ran into the deserters again, Temero had a feeling something was going to go wrong (for that trio at least) very, very quickly. And as it should. There was no place for deserters in ME, and he could only assume they would pay dearly for their actions. Especially considering Anækileya's tone.

Not very friendly was an understatement, this bloody cave was like one of the deepest pits of the afterlife that had been reserved for the most monstrous of beings. Syn should never have ended up in such a place.
“You know what I wanna do? I want to get the hell out of this bloody place, get up to the light, catch myself a human for lunch and never even think about this hole again,” he grumbled, shaking his fur out and spraying water in every direction, shivering as it seeped to his skin. He no longer cared for Fenrir’s opinion of him- he had seen the wolf run scared too- so he was in no position to judge this characteristic mutinous streak that now showed through.

Growling under his breath as Jitt joined them in the lower cavern, he fluffed up his fur unhappily to try and afford him a little bit more warmth, and make himself bigger too when it came to the huge dragons finally arriving. No doubt they would be battling those monsters upstairs for ages, too long for Syn’s liking… although, any time down here was too long for Syn’s liking. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the scythe claw as fresh steam billowed around them, making air sticky as well as horribly damp.
“What do we do? We get the bloody hell out of here,” he growled, voice rumbling low in his chest as he put his ears back against his head. This was the last place he wanted to be, especially with the rest of ME apparently appearing too now; so, the clubtails had made it through that skeleton fiend. Shame.
“This is some tag-along. He doesn’t seem much of a fan.” Syn widened his eyes slightly, turning his head away in dislike. The longer he seemed to want to keep up conversation, the more the clubtail was likely to push him to a watery grave.

Being stuck in this forsaken hole together had appeased Fenrir’s raging mind a little and though he was still grumpy, he didn’t feel like ripping Syn’s tail off for making him wet. He was wet anyways, so what’s the big deal?
If the wolf dragon had had the time to worry about that particular odd thought of his, he would have but he was too busy agreeing with Syntribos. He wanted to get out of this place as well and live his own life again, no matter how miserable. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning voice reminded him of the commitment he had made when stumbling blindly into a nest of raging ME dragons. Now he was stuck.

Shaking himself now, less because he was wet but simply because he had cold shivers run down his spine constantly, Fenrir took a closer look around – as far as it was possible in the dim lighting. He barely even noticed the approach of the remaining dragons and foremost the clubtail sisters. Wondering briefly how they had even fit through the fairly tight tunnels, he pushed that thought aside again as his eyes fixed on something he had thought to have seen at the far end of the lake.

“We were scouting ahead for new dangers. Imagine something else appearing while the group was still fighting a heap of bones unwilling to die, something that was likely to cause much more damage than mere bones! It wouldn’t have been pretty.”
Fenrir knew that most likely Anækileya wouldn’t believe him but some others might which would help their cause. At least he hadn’t outright told them they had indeed fled. He wasn’t ashamed of it either but he didn’t want to be executed merely for wanting to save his hide while the others threw themselves into a futile fight.

Dyavol felt honoured – head rides from two dragons, neither of whom was Vy. He accepted Anae’s offer, feeling more comfortable accepting rides from the huge clubtails who barely noticed his weight on the tops of their heads. He and Temero shared a reasonable amount of mutual respect, or so Dyavol saw it, too, which made him feel happier not taking rides.

Once the strain was off his wings, Dyavol was quite happy to watch the tunnel walls rush by as they moved. No one had been killed, and they had a couple of deserters to chase after and have a word with, which meant happy days. Maybe whatever the heck they came up against next would be easier to kill, just for a bit of sport before they found the stone they were after. So long as there was nothing else he couldn’t sink his teeth into, Dyavol would leave happy. He still hadn’t really considered the possibility that they wouldn’t leave.

He glanced over at the new tear dragon. She still hadn’t found her voice properly, it seemed. It made him want to laugh. He was surprised she hadn’t been eaten alive. Maybe later he’d have a word with her. She seemed too timid for ME, but then again, he had been a little shaky when he joined the clubtail sisters. He’d have to assume she’d toughen up on the job.

Vy followed along slightly behind the group, making sure that none of the skeleton beasts would decide to get up and follow them deeper into the cave. When they all stopped she came forward in the group, checking the physical health of those she passed as she went with a glance and joined her sister at the front of the group. It wasn't a surprise to see the coward Syn here, shivering in his dampness and she quietly hoped that he would catch cold and suffer for weeks to come. Fenrir, however, she was surprised to see spouting thin lies in the hopes of saving his own hide. Vy would have preferred them to come clean and apologize instead of vomiting this verbal nonsense, but cowards would be cowards. Killing them for their cowardice was one thing, but they were in a hole filled with who only knew how many dangers ahead and every battle-ready member would be needed for the trials ahead. She would let them dig their own graves, then.

"Scouting ahead?" Vy repeated, stopping just close enough to the two deserters that they would have to crane their necks to look at her in the eye. "Well, then I suppose we must thank you for your scouting, lest this tunnel be full of dangers. If the three if you," she would include the sytheclaw in this. She didn't know Jitt very well, though if he was part of the fleeing group then he deserved the same punishment, "would like to do the rest of us a favor, continue scouting for us, since you did such a good job this time. This cave is unlike anything that we have faced before. We cannot afford to be devised now when our combined strength is needed most." She cast her eyes on Syn in particular as she said this. "Though if you brave souls wish to volunteer to help the rest of the group, I will applaud you. Go ahead, continue on."

Gerris decided to skulk behind the clubtail sisters after the battle with the bone monstrosities was over. He was tired and sore, and he would rather that other dragons take the brunt of the sister's ire. They may have been built for battles, but Gerris was built for espionage. Not for the first time, he considered why he had ever joined these dragons in the first place. He supposed it was boredom. After all, after he'd eliminated his 'father' there was far less things to do, and he couldn't take jobs because, although no one would ever say it, they were suspicious of him in Kaionar. His 'father' had had many allies and many close associates that knew how he was and knew how he'd raised Gerris. To expect anything less than an execution for the man's death was to be naive. No one wanted to hire an assassin that could turn and bite the hand that fed.

While he contemplated his life situation, the 'deserters' were berated via hollow compliments and given a horrible job, considering the nature of the caves they were in. He wouldn't want to be Syntribos or Fenrir at the moment. Scouting shifty caves was just not on his to-do list. Neither was jumping down a sinkhole and fighting undead creatures, but the world was full of surprises. He still did not know why they were risking tooth and claw over the stone. He didn't think they could get anything from its destruction. After all, if the guardian dragons were supposed to be guarding them, then perhaps there was a reason they were there, for dragon kind.

Gerris thought that the entire Maledictus Eice was willingly fooled by the leadership roles that both Vy and Anae provided. No one questioned their madness, their pain, because apparently everyone was just as mad and in pain, hateful of two-leg kind. Gerris would not be the one to point out that dragons were not only victims of two-legs, but other two-legs as well, and although bad things happened, on a whole, two-legs were far more useful than Vy and Anae were willing to admit. They were also far too young to realize their folly. They ran around thinking they knew what was best for dragon kind, and took nothing less than a yes for an answer. They could not speak for the entirety of dragons, and their assumption that they knew best was laughable.

Again, Gerris would not be the one to point that out. He would also not be the one to stick with Maledictus Eice to the fiery end. To save Dragon's Cove, they would need to go, and he would have to think of a good way to take out their supporters covertly before he figured out a way to end them. It would not be easy, and he would probably have to find sympathizers, but it was an undertaking that was worth the trouble.

Scouting ahead for danger was a relatively good cover-up for the real reason Syn and Fenrir had fled down the tunnel- well, Syn at least. He was pretty sure that the wolf dragon had been running in fear too though when he took off so suddenly. Scouting, really? He had been howling for his mother.

That did not mean that Syn disagreed with him when it came to it though, and he hastily nodded his agreement, feeling a little pleased with the situation that it was not he himself saying such lies. The clubtails barely believed anything he said as it was already; although Fenrir was barely any more trustworthy (at least in the desert chaser’s eyes), they might eat his cake a little more readily.
And it came with the bonus that he wouldn’t have to contradict his own words later, if he needed to. For now though, even Fenrir's words had gotten them into more trouble. Well of course they had, the clubtails had it completely in for him, if not the wolf too now for such a blatant lie. He sighed quietly to himself, narrowing his eyes at Vy even though she was basically threatening them. Anything he did was bound to annoy her, this would hardly be any worse than throwing a hissy fit and refusing to go.
Well, perhaps that would be a little worse. He looked away from her neck-aching gaze, refusing to bow to his 'magnificent' leader and her words.
"Fine. Our pleasure. I didn't think it like you to send smaller dragons in front though. Thought you'd want the glory of coming across another giant monster for yourself." His tail twitched from side to side and he turned away, hating that he had to go first down this new tunnel, almost wholly embarrassing himself in his fear as he tentatively started out at the head (but even still, glancing back for Fenrir, he wasn't letting the wolf dragon get away if he was in a mess).

Like before, it sloped downwards relatively steeply, leading them quickly into darkness. It was a grim sort of place, dripping stalactites hanging from the ceiling, stalagmites reaching up like jaws to meet with them and cast gruesome figures in the poor light. For all Syn’s bluster, he hated this place. The ground was rough and worn, wet and slimy. Even more slimy as they walked further, the ground coated with some sort of sticky goop that stuck to the paws and made it disgusting underfoot.
This was like Syn’s worst nightmare. Even more when the tunnel seemed to narrow and straighten, the rough walls replaced with smooth ones, the floor too. A sticky, slimy, dark sloping tunnel, followed by his least favourite acquaintances.
Well this day was just tip-top, wasn’t it.

Fenrir was not displeased with Vy’s reaction, as it could have been much worse, though he was fairly certain that she was hoping both him and Syn would die in their attempt to scout ahead, so that they would not have to do it. Then again, as bloodthirsty as those two crazy nuts were, they would not have any qualms whatsoever in ripping their claws into both the desert chaser’s and the wolf dragon’s throats – so what was the hold-up?

Not that Fenrir was complaining that he was still alive by this point. The increasingly bad atmosphere in the group was speaking volumes of impending doom and he was somewhat glad that he was not dead quite yet. However, scouting, well, it wasn’t all that fantastic a job.

Clearing his throat as he shot Syn a scolding look, urging him to shut his trap, Fenrir nodded his consent however. “We shall do as it pleases you.” What a load of crap, he thought, slightly surprised at how easily that lie had passed his lips. He wasn’t much one for lying. Generally he just growled to himself and was grumpy at all the world but didn’t constantly voice it or sugarcoat it to others.
In addition, this wouldn’t be the first time the clubtail sisters had sent smaller dragons upfront, though of course with Gerris practically falling down the hole, it had not technically been on their orders. Still, it all seemed like the same idiocy to him. Ah yes, how easy it is to hope that hazard and unseen threats will get rid of those you do not like but pretend to need so that others don’t desert you.

Probably the worst thing about this next tunnel was the mess on the floor. It was itching Fenrir to rub his feet on a stalactite every two seconds but he didn’t want to openly admit to that sort of thing in front of the whole of ME staring after the two dragons. But it was putting him on edge even more than he already was and he was once again nearing the moment of blind rage that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. The plopping sounds every now and then when the paws were lifted out of the slime and the bubbles underneath popped was completely and utterly disgusting, making Fenrir’s hair stand on end.
“What is this disgusting crap? Can you see anything?” he asked Syn, not even bothering to look back towards the other dragons, not even caring whether they followed or not. He secretly hoped though that the two clubtail sisters would get stuck between the stalactites. Now that would at least provide a little bit of amusement in this gruesome endeavour. “Something muddish or liquidish needs to be here somewhere. This stuff has to have some sort of source and I doubt that it is the lake we’ve just moved away from.”

Suddenly however, the dirt on the floor wasn’t the only problem anymore. The tunnel they had been following suddenly reached a sort of junction and there were two paths branching off of it to the left and the right side.
“Do we keep going straight? Or do we branch off?” Fenrir turned around to look at Vy and Anæ. He might have managed to get Syn and himself into the scouting position, but he wasn’t going to take the decision. No way.
As if it wasn’t all revolting enough already, a large drop of slime rained down from the ceiling on the wolf dragon’s back and he couldn’t help but shiver as it started running down his side. This was so not what he imagined he’d be doing with his life!

As it happened, the dragons had actually overcome the bone beasts of the cave and advanced onward down an obscure tunnel. Rintho was in no hurry at all to follow them, despite needing desperately to be first, he felt as if it would be safer for now to hang back. Once he was up on his feet again, hand retracted from the ground and feeling all the better for not letting go of death magics- Rintho began to follow lightly on his feet.
Upon entering the passage, he found it was not the most hospitable, many crystals lined it, some fit to impale for a false step, others simply shimmering to display their beauty; one not often seen.

Least of all expected was the acute pulsing of energy he could feel wave through him. It was different to that of the particularly magical dragons here, entirely different perhaps. He had only heard brief conversations amongst the dragons before, but now as he was standing a significant way behind the column of dragons, he lingered, his curiosity piqued.
At first he nervously glanced around, putting a hand gingerly to the crystals to feel them, he could see small shudders of what was either magic of light, making the crystals all the more mesmerising to watch.
There was definitely something active here, yet he had no idea what. It begged to be explored. Perhaps....if Atoro were not satisfied with his possible lack of lightning magic, a rare mixture of magic could be trapped within one of the vessel crystals he had.

Testing the waters, Rintho looked again to the parade moving further and further away. He let in a small push of light magic to the crystals, hoping to see it all better.

He couldn’t begin to understand why, but as the rest of the dragons closed in on Jitt and his new companions even he could tell that they were not happy with him. He didn’t even know them! Well, as far as he knew. Maybe he had met them before and just didn’t realise it…
But no, based on their words they didn’t know him either. That didn’t stop them from telling him what to do. Much of the detail of the conversation went over his head as he turned to look dumbly from one dragon to the next. What did they want him to do? Why weren’t they just getting out of the caves, like Syn had said? Why would they want to go further in? Maybe if he went back up to the top, he’d be able to find his way out. Surely, somehow…
With a whimper, he burst into a run, trying to break through the ranks of dragons and get to the tunnel leading back out of this new, wet cavern.

There was little to add to what her sister had already said. Anækileya watched impassively as the punishment was dealt; the standard form for deserters was execution. That could still come, of course, but they were lucky that they hadn’t been killed on the spot. Fenrir’s excuse had been a pathetic one; she couldn’t decide whether or not it made fleeing worse to lie about it afterwards.
Just as two of the dragons turned to venture ahead, however, the third- the one she didn’t recognise- broke rank and came dashing madly back through the waterfall, seemingly trying to make for the tunnel they had just come down. She took a step sideways to block his path, leaving him standing helplessly before her.
“You are not one of Maledictus Eice. What brings you here?”
“I followed somebody… there were monsters everywhere. And lightning. I hate lightning.” Terror sparked in his eyes; obviously, something had happened to this dragon to instill such a fear in him. Well, even if he had had no intention of joining their group, he had the potential to be useful. Those claws looked as dangerous as they were reputed to be. She hadn’t met many scythe claws, and none for very long; it would be interesting to see the damage one could inflict.
“Perhaps you do not know of our group. We are dedicated to regaining Dragons Cove for our own kind, after years of oppression by other races. We offered them the chance to leave our land peacefully, and they refused. Now we will take it back by force. The likes of humans cannot stand up to the might of dragons.”

Jitt didn’t really understand the most part of what was being said to him, but he managed to get the vague impression that these dragons were killing humans. Wasn’t it a human who had hurt him? With lightning…
“She hit me,” he blurted in something of a non-sequitur. “With lightning…” The other dragon lowered herself to his height, scrutinising him with an odd expression on her face. Finally, she seemed to come to some kind of conclusion.
“Come with us for now. We can discuss later whether you wish to join our group or leave our territory; I am sure you would be a worthy addition to our cause. What is your name?” Jitt blinked helplessly for a moment before remembering to look down and read it off his foot.
“Jitt,” he answered proudly.

“Excellent. Come with us, Jitt.” After the brief conversation, it was obvious that there was something wrong with the dragon- Anækileya felt slight pity for him. Was it a human who had done this to him? It seemed likely enough from his words. How useful he might turn out to be she couldn’t say, but if he stayed with Maledictus Eice they would be able to protect him from further harm, at least.
“This way, then,” she declared, twisting back to face the rest of the dragons. “Dyavol, you may wish to shelter under my wings… any others who want to are of course welcome.” A gossamer dragon took her up on the offer, folding his wings away carefully to protect them from the waterfall. The dragons made quite a procession as they moved across the cavern and into another tunnel at the other end. This one seemed to have smoother walls- if slimy ones-, sloping downwards with plenty of space even for a clubtail to pass.
She rolled to a halt as she heard Fenrir calling back to her, frowning thoughtfully at the junction. A brief consultation with her sister followed before she replied,
“Branch off. We can always come back and try the other way if necessary.” A faint glow from the branching tunnel had caught her attention; as they moved towards it, it became apparent that this was caused by great walls of softly glowing crystal, entirely transparent in some places and in other casting a strange reflection of the dragons. An opening in the wall clearly indicated the start of a maze. This had to be deliberate; surely it indicated that they were on the right path?
“Tread carefully. There may be traps here,” she warned.

A sudden awareness of another presence in the caves drew the spirit away from where it had been streaking its way through buried crystal. Scarcely a second passed after Rintho laying his hand on the wall before it erupted suddenly next to him, the light drawing into one point from which it sprang.
“What was that?” it asked warily, circling this odd newcomer. The pulse of magic he had released had had a bizarre feel to it. Definitely different from that of the dragons currently rampaging through the caves… It felt more like the magic which had gone in to create the caves, the Arch Mage’s magic. Though of course no magic felt quite the same as that.
And another strange point about this being was that magic was intrinsical to it, in the same way that it was to a dragon or even to the spirit itself… yet it wasn’t there naturally in this newcomer as it was in the others.
“What are you??” it now asked, coming to a halt in its confusion.

From his vantage point atop Anae’s head Dyavol had an excellent view of the conversation between her and Jitt. A new member, hooray! And a scythe claw at that – he was certain they had to be among the best at spilling blood. But he did seem a little scatter brained, and easily spooked. Not qualities that he admired. He would have to wait and see. At least this new dragon seemed to have more promise than the healer they had acquired before entering the pit. He didn’t like healers, even though they had probably saved his life three or four times. They weren’t destructive enough for his liking.

As they moved, Dyavol kept a closer watch on the furthest visible point in the tunnel than ever. He wanted to be the first one to see whatever was in the next tunnel. It was like a game that only he was playing, but that didn’t mean it was acceptable not to win. First one to see something they could kill won. Oh he hoped there were more monsters before they found what they were looking for – all he’d done that day was break a pile of bones a little. He wanted – no, needed – to kill something before evening fell.

--

Ocei flinched and turned her head, certain she had heard something. She thought the tunnel looked a little brighter behind them, but it could just be a trick of the light. It was easy to be fooled just by the sheer force of magic down there, so she ignored it and focussed on keeping up with the others. Her back ached, where the deep scars touched her wing joints, which was making it feel as though the tunnel went on forever. She was terrified of what would happen if the two-leg that had given her those saw her again. She doubted even the might of these dragons would keep her safe.

“Wh-what are we going to do when we get to the middle… or the bottom… of this place?” she asked, targeting the dragons nearest to her but not caring who replied. She was out of her depth, but would have done anything to please them. That meant she needed instructions. She had been practising baring her teeth and using her claws as she walked past rocks in the tunnel, so she would hopefully manage not to make quite such a fool of herself next time they faced… anything.

Silently, Vy thought that the two traitors should have been humbled that she would choose to spare their lives, but she was literally and figuratively above their thinly veiled displeasure. Let them think what they wanted. They would serve as an example soon enough anyway. Though she hoped that at least Fenrir would redeem himself. Syn she could live without, but the wolf dragon had some promise. It would be a waste to have him killed, but the laws of their group were unbending, and she truly did despise disloyalty.

Getting to the bottom of the cave was easier said than done. Several times the stalactites and stalagmites had made the passage narrow enough that she had to duck and wiggle her way through, her scales leaving scrapes in the stone every time she had to maneuver her great bulk through the narrowing passages. As much as an effort that it was, she was glad when they moved into a broader passage that was peculiar in its perfectly straight construction, obviously not just another cave but man made in origin. Why anyone would build a shaft as wide as the one that they navigated, she couldn't even begin to fathom. Then again, their end goal was probably enough of a reason. Powerful ancient stones probably required some form of impressive hallway before the grand reveal.

The fact that the hallway ended in a split in the road initially had her worried. It would be impossible to tell just how complicated the route that they had to take would be, or how deeply it went into the earth. Perhaps they would be struggling for days just trying to find a way out.

Contemplating the issue that stood before them, Vy tilted her head slightly when she heard Ocieanna speak, but didn't reply immediately. "When we get there, we're going to take one more step in our movement to destroy human tyranny." Came the immediate reply as she continued to stare down the dark hallways, then turned her gaze on the healer dragon. "We've searched far and wide for this stone, one of the tethers on the true power of the dragons placed by that accursed arch mage in legends. If we can destroy it, we can secure our future. Dragon will be free once more." Her speech delivered, Vy moved forward, sticking her head first in one branch then the other. "I'll take the left wing. Half come with me. Mark the walls so that you don't get lost. We don't need to be getting lost down here. Be careful." The warning was meant for all of their followers, but she especially stressed it to her sister, though Anae hardly needed her fretting.

"Stick close together. Let's move." Vy started down the left hallway, having to duck her head in order to fit through the smaller passage way and trusted others to follow. There really wasn't anywhere else to go, so forward was the only real solution. It wasn't long before the twisting passage came to another fork and she kept to the left side, scraping her heavy tail club against the wall as she went to serve as a marker. It was practically pitch black in the maze, the thick rock walls dampening any light from the crystals that had provided light earlier in the maze. All of a sudden the hall ahead of her glowed a soft blue, and in the sudden light she blinked. It took a moment to realize that what she was looking at were nearly transparent walls, looking almost to be made of thick wavy glass. Upon closer inspection, she could see the geometric structures and veins of ore in the thick wavy surface, and realized that it must be more crystals. With a brief glance upward she saw that the crystals defending from the ceiling were pointed like the ones that they'd seen earlier higher in the cave system. Interesting. At least they had some light.

She came to a dead end almost immediately and with a grumble turned about, keeping the wall to her left shoulder again, resolutely moving forward. The thicker crystals she followed were dimmer than the vibrantly glowing walls on her right side, and sometimes she could see through them enough to get a glimpse of solid rock on the other side of the wall she was following. The pat stayed more or less straight, with passage ways opening up to the right that would lead on some confusing path through the maze. Every time they came across an intersection she scraped a long mark in the crystal to her left, in case anyone else started getting lost. Abruptly though a wall appeared, curving around to the right. Through the wavy crystal wall however, she could see the path continuing on in front of her.

The last thing she wanted to do was get turned around. With a rumbling growl in her chest, Vy suddenly planted her leg and pivoted, whirling her tail around with deadly force and smashed in the wall. It shattered under the pressure, leaving spiderwebbing cracks through the clear crystal to either side of the newly formed hole. The sound of the crystal cracking echoed back at her through the cave, making it sound like thunder had boomed inside the narrow confines of the space. But still, smashing things had felt good. With another swing she had a hole opened up enough for her to squeeze through if she tucked her wings and stepped into the new passageway, eager to get along. She had to force her way through a wall four more times before she finally cleared the crystal maze in its entirety.

She stood in a clearing, shaking off chips of crystal from her scales and flexing her wings. The last hole had been uncomfortably close and she'd torn a bit of her wing in the passing, but it was a small scrape all things considered. "Well, that was an adventure." Vy muttered mostly to herself, looking out over what seemed like another pool of water, the surface so calm it looked like black glass in the darkness. "We've got to be close by now." She wondered if the others would have followed her path once she'd marked it off or if they would have to wait for them to figure their way out of the mess.

Gerris wondered, not for the hundredth time, why he'd joined this group. He almost snorted aloud at one of the sisters' answer to the tear dragon's question. He was feeling that urge to leave, to abandon this foolery and find himself someplace to stay. The group's rules were ultimatums that he did not agree with, no flexibility, characteristic of insane leadership. Some if not all the dragons in this group were mad, and Gerris found it hard to relate to any of them. They were ruled by their emotions, they were inefficient, they drew conclusions from thin air and they did no research. Everything was the fault of humanoids and they would overlook anything, like the fact that these stones were guarded by Guardian Dragons for a reason. And speaking of those absent bastards, they should have prevented this.

Gerris felt uneasy when he heard the distant crashing of one of the thickheaded sisters smashing her way through what sounded like crystal. He watched other dragons go down tunnels, and watched some follow the sisters.

He would not be one of them. He felt death in the air, cloying and oppressive and he thought he felt the skull pinching him.

Gerris turned his back on the dragons of the Maledictus Eice. Many would die this night, he could feel it. Nothing good could come of destroying a stone laden with magic. He did not want to know what other measures were put into place to prevent such folly. The guardians would get more ferocious and fearsome. He went back the way he came and stopped when he thought he brushed against someone small. He looked around and saw nothing and no one. Sighing, he padded back, finding his way back to the bone room.

Lifting into the air, he circled it a few times before he powered up the sink hole. He was not afraid of being chased, but he would kill to get away and would fly his hardest to evade pursuit.

--Exit Gerris--

Vy skirted the shore of the pool in front of her with a final glance over her shoulder. The others would simply have to catch up. She was eager to see what was beyond in the dark hole she had spotted on the other side of the water. The enterance was a bit shorter than she would have liked, forcing her to dip her head in order to enter the darkness, the carved stone on either side of her suddenly beginning to glow as soon as she step foot over the threshold, revealing that it wasn't just a hole in the wall, but seemingly a long tunnel.

The long hallway was surprisingly well lit. From small brackets in the walls, lights glowed, emulating the steady bright flicker of a fire, so different from the omniscient blue that had appeared previously in their travels through the caves. The shaft was obviously cut from stone by mortal hands, straight as it was with no apparent deviation from side to side. The barrel vaulted ceiling overhead was similarly carved out of the stone, roughly at first from primitive tools, but the ribbing obviously became more refined the further down the hall they went. Vy only took a few steps into the hallway before she stopped, the corner of her eye catching on what appeared to be wall scribbles. No, not scribbles, drawings. Primitive little things done by unrefined hands that matched the state of the craftsmanship upon the walls that they were painted. The glow of the mysterious magical lights above shone just enough light to make out what was depicted. On the sides of the walls were depictions of what appeared to be boats rendered in some sort of greasy black substance that had stood the test of time. She could make out tints of red, though they were faded nearly to the point of being completely unseen. The ships had masts and seemed to become a forest with their intensity of numbers, filling the entire space with ship upon ship upon ship. Above her head was depicted a rough line of what was perhaps a wave or a cloud.

Curious, she followed the depiction. Storms made frequent visits to the forest of ships, some rendered with crude flames, others struck by what was apparently a bolt of lightning, and some others outright appearing to sink below the surface. Just before a solid line on both sides of the wall that marked a shore, more and more of the boats began to not to fall prey to the forces of nature, but were ripped apart by what could only be described as large fish. It was hard to tell the meaning, but she got the gist that some sort of creatures from the sea interrupted the boats in their journey. Finally, the boats made landing on the shore, stick figures with thin pole weapons pouring off the boats. Overhead she could make out the forms of what had probably been several dragons, though not a single one could she identify. It had become clear to her that this was a story of some sort, but what it was cataloging she could only guess at.

All sorts of crudely rendered evil fates set upon the stick figures that had come off the boats. Dragons felled some; others seemed to simply fall over dead, bits of green greasy pigment filling in the stick figures. But more often than not there was prosperity depicted with shoddy looking houses and herds of what was probably sheep and cattle. Above her head they had managed to mix blue pigment and the apparent sky was interrupted occasionally with a dragon or a cloud. Later on, some of the settlers seemed to stand in conversation under the wings of great behemoths. But again, if they were dragons, they were none that she had ever seen before, and bigger than any she could fathom if the size of scale was to be believed.

The wall became smoother, the ribs supporting the ceiling more defined as she walked on, observing the stone panels as she came across them. Suddenly the depiction of a structure rose out of the chaos of landscapes and natural elements, encompassing the entire wall and ceiling. It was carved out of the rock itself, the single square archway in the rounded hall that they had been walking through so far, the effect making it seem like she was walking through the pillars of some grand building. The head of a dragon stared down at her from the highest point in the barreled arch, mouth agape and partially carved from the stone in a shallow relief. Beyond the doors the drawings became easier to decipher, if not altogether realistic looking. Farmlands stretched out using the beginnings of perspective and the stick figures were fleshed out into more recognizable shapes. Dragons made frequent appearances here, but the idyllic scene only lasted a single panel. The next few were what appeared to be a step by step instruction for some evil purpose that set Vy's blood to boiling. Some type of dragon had been captured by the two-leggeds rendered on the stone walls, the entrance way making another appearance holding the chains of the dragon and dragging it to a pedestal. Drawn around it were symbols that she couldn't even begin to decipher, but the end result was clear. In the next panel one of the two-legged renderings was standing in a circle of the same symbols from before, but the dragon on the pedestal was nothing but bones.

Many two-leggeds stood with the circle of symbols around them, casting lightning bolts at a herd of dragons that came rushing at the sacrifice panel, defending their bloody art. A panel later the dragon horde was joined by a spattering of the two-leggeds, charging into battle with them but their numbers were very few and far between. The resulting panels that followed the clash were washed in faded red, scenes of battle clearly depicted in gruesome detail. At the end of it, on the ceiling was the entrance that they had come through again, though this time defaced. The walls showed a procession of people who went to the dais, but it was cracked and not whole like before. On both walls stood some person with a shining crown on their head, immortalized with gold leafing and standing above the gathered crowds. A ruler of some sort. The next panel was idyllic again, showing the peaceful cohabitation of the two-leggeds and the dragons among their farms and settlements, but structures of stone began to rise out of the simple illustrations, the carvings and frescoes becoming steadily more advanced in technique as they walked. The two wall panels she came to were suddenly taken by larger-than-life frescoes of some men with crowns upon their heads, and above on the ceiling was a woman with her arms spread benevolently over the two kings. The panels on the right were flat and grassy, the panels on the left covered with rolling hills and verdant forests, and the ceiling above a representation of mountain peaks and sky. The ceiling panel suddenly went red, the woman laying on the ceiling covered in what looked like blood with her hands crossed over her chest, eyes closed.

The image of the man on the right side of the wall was repeated, though instead of a catalog of his person it seemed as if he were reaching for the realm on the ceiling, his hands coated in blood and connected to the dead woman a panel before. On the right side of the wall the crowned man that had stood proudly before had turned his back to the scene opposite him, facing the sprawling forest and farmland on his side of the hallway. The apparent grab for power was met with another handful of panels that were washed in fire and blood. Legions of soldiers with weapons marched from the ceiling and the opposite wall to the right side of the hallway, accompanied by dragons who swooped across the ribbed vaulted ceiling and rained fire on the armies of the king with the bloodied hands. The gruesome depictions from before were nothing in comparison to these panels, for the artists had seemed to take great care in rendering exactly what had happened on the battlefield, the ample space provided in the hallway giving ample room to depict mass armies moving across farmlands, leaving destruction in their wake. The stretch of fighting continued for many paces, and Vy could only wonder for how long this particular fight had lasted to warrant so many panels to it, the acts depicted growing more gruesome as they wound on.

Eventually the swaths of blood and fire ceased, the ceiling showing a ceremony of some sort in which figures with crowns on their brows gathered together. The resulting panels were dreary and hauntingly empty of any sort of life. Shadows of birds circled the ceilings, the landscape brown and stark compared to the idyllic scenes that had come before the battles. The dreary emptiness of the murals were interrupted occasionally by fires that were ringed by what could only be described as ragged looking soldiers that had somehow survived the red death that had come before, their weapons in their air, some impaling severed heads. The art on the walls steadily decreased in its finesse, the almost natural renderings from before replaced with abstract figures that were more-or-less recognizable as the aftermath of the long war continued. Suddenly the nothing was interrupted by what looked like rows upon rows of library shelves, the spines of books standing out in low relief from the frescoes, the art suddenly returning to its earlier state of refinement.

Overhead stood a figure with arms spread, fingers dipping across the expanse of the huge vaulted ceiling to touch the books in an almost loving caress. Closer to the floors, the books seemed to bleed bright red blood that had faded with time. A section of the bottom wall that stood as tall as a man was covered in the runes of some ancient and long dead language that Vy couldn’t even begin to make heads or tails of. The libraries were replaced with depictions of cages and torture devices of every imaginable shape, size, and purpose. Overhead hung what looked like giant birdcages. Most of the torture devices had people on them in various states of pain, bodies distorted by the ministrations of their hooded captors. More writing in the ancient runic language decorated the bottom of the floor, the unintelligible squiggles probably cataloging the events portrayed on the wall if she were to guess. The pictures were horrifying and even disgusted Vy. She abided by no torture, even if it was performed on deserving two-leggeds. The scenes of torture left off after a handful of panels, replaced instead from the man that had been touching the libraries before, looming this time over a girl child with a crown on her brow, his hands splayed like a puppeteer. In the next scene eight cloaked figures with glowing eyes knelt on either side of the wall, stooped into various poses of horror, though a single one stood from the eight, hands raised and mouth open as if screaming. Rising from their hunched and twisted shoulders rose what looked to be a black mist that was somehow terrifying in its stark simplicity and difference from the rest of the avid color of the more recent frescoes that had decorated the walls before.

Suddenly, the ceiling was dominated by a familiar sight, one that Vy had seen before on a map inked onto parchment from one of the many caravans that she had raided in her youth. It was their island, the island of Dragons Cove, enshrouded in the same stark blackness rising from the eight figures before and dripping red paint down the sides of the walls. The only points on the map untouched by the spreading darkness were three small globes of light of different colors. One of the points of light was a deep ruby red, its position indicated as somewhere in the frigid wastes of the icelands. The second light was a bright pure white that shone softly from the north western reaches of the island that Vy recognized as the volcano belt. The last light wasn't so much a light but a lack thereof, darker than even the black spreading over the land and seemed to suck in all colors, located to the far south of the island. Below the map on the floor, before now completely undecorated, was suddenly transformed into a pool of red tiles interspersed with white shards constructed into skulls and rib cages.

The single standing robed figure from before reappeared in the next panel, riding on the back of some unidentifiable dragon on the wing, obviously flying some great distance and came to rest in front of a crowned man, bowing before him and pointing backwards to the map panel on the ceiling. The crowned man was then depicted with a sword in hand, riding forward with an army of men following in his wake, cutting down individuals as they swept through the panel, the robed figure following close in the surge of destruction that suddenly filled the successive panels. The charge of horsemen and soldiers led by the crowned man and the hooded figure were suddenly set upon by dark forces, men in stylized black armor swathing through the gathered force and immediately put down the force within the span of half a stone panel, the rest of it occupied by a forest of nooses with people dangling from them. Above it all stood the man from the library, looking triumphant as he stretched across the ceiling, his fingers grasping for the throat of the child queen who was suddenly dead, her hands crossed over her chest and eyes closed.

From the point of the queen’s death, the stylized black-shelled soldiers fanned out like a tidal wave, moving from the ceiling to the walls, with weapons unsheathed and falling upon the rolling hills, forests, farms and cities depicted. The panels quickly turned bloody, the same attention to detail from panels previous for the depiction of torture applied to the resulting slaughter of the black army falling on the idyllic scenes beyond. The chilling stark blackness from before began to creep back into the frescoes, following long lines of people and dragons in chains as they were carted off to a distant building with bird cages decorating the outside while the black army continued to clash with other forces. It all quickly turned to chaos, making it hard to tell who was fighting who anymore, apparently a free-for-all having broken out in this time of war, though the black armored army dominated the competition, rolling over any opponents that stood in their way. The blackness increased, filling in all the spots where the soldiers were not, occupying every available space until the hall was almost a dark void despite the softly glowing magical lights in the hallway.

The all-encompassing blackness was interrupted by a startlingly bright figure that broke the pitch dark with his presence, hands raised, robes flowing. Unlike the rest of the depictions, this one glowed with the same crystals that were from the previous caves, marking the man very easily as some sort of mage. From his fingers sprung light, five orbs making a ring around the darkness and contained it. From this ring sprung five dragons, and this time they were ones that Vy could recognize. She gasped audibly, eying the five dragons in order: blue, purple, red, yellow, and green. Guardians. Bewildered she looked backwards at the hall that had led up to this, her eyes wide as understanding dawned on her. This was the story of the Cove itself from the time before the Guardians. Her heart was in her throat at such a discovery, eying the rendering of the Guardians, their distinctive horns and wings easily marking them separately from any other dragon species on the cove. The darkness and the dark armies were banished in the wake of the advent of the Guardians, and the man from the libraries was beheaded in gory detail, the triumphant armies that had been fighting against the darkness obviously celebrating with bright banners flying in the wind of the scene. The slaves from before that had been filing into the building with the birdcages flooded out of their imprisonment, joining the joyous masses.

The mage that had created the Guardians stood on a pedestal, the five multicolored dragons ringed around him as three figures knelt before him. They all held their crowns out before him to be taken willingly. From this gathering sprang ten robed figures, looking as royal as any king with the Guardians standing behind them as if guiding them, looking over the masses with hands benevolently raised like shepherds beckoning their flock home. The joy was interrupted however when the mage lay across the ceiling in a familiar depiction of death, the five Guardians gathered around his funeral panel with their heads bowed. The panel was encrusted with gold foil and studded with gems set into the very stone with the aid of precious metals, his form outlined with the eternally glowing crystals of the cave. The ten that had risen before stood just beyond the panel of the mage’s death scene, heads bowed as well, the lower reaches of the panel filled with smaller unimportant figures who were all mourning the passing of the great mage.

The long-missed idyllic scenery returned to cover the walls, depicting the growth and prosperity of the land and the people, cities of stone rising from wooden villages. The fighting was little to non-existent and died out all together when one of the Guardians would swoop down from on high and intervene in the battles to the praise of gathered citizens. Occasionally a Guardian was shown standing on top of a ruined building, either crushed to oblivion or burned out of existence altogether, leaving only a darkened splotch on the stone.

The murals suddenly ended there, several panels beyond left completely untouched. An archway loomed in front of them, the keystone carved into the severe face of a man. The archway itself was carved in that long-dead language, the script curving from one side of the passage to the other, but was utterly indecipherable. Vy passed underneath the archway, coming to what was an abrupt end. Frowning, she examined the rocks, determining that somewhere in the past and gave the rock slide and experimental shove with her shoulder. Surprisingly, it gave way, but not enough to open the passage. Taking a few steps back, she gathered herself and took a short charge forward, slamming into the rock pile with her shoulder.

The grinding of stones as they slid away from the impact filled the cavern, echoing down the halls. When the dust cleared and the stones finished rumbling away, Vy found herself standing on the top of a huge incline that wound down into a pit filled with bones larger than any she had seen in the above room. Beyond the sea of bones rose a length of smooth shallow steps that led straight to the mouth of what could only be described as a temple. It was illuminated with the blue and white crystals that populated the cave, lending much sorely needed light. The temple was supported with beautifully carved pillars, the crest of it topped with what looked like a giant almost realistic Guardian dragon made entirely of stone. Magic crackled in the air here, nearly a physical force with its intensity. This was it. They had arrived at the end.

Anaekileya led her group with purpose, talons clacking rhythmically against the stone. Lighter clatterings behind her signalled her following, the occasional mutter echoing through the caves as one dragon made a remark to the other. It didn’t take them long to reach the beginning of the maze, where she was forced to hold her wings unnaturally up above her back in order to fit through the narrow entrance. She was colossal, it was true, but she had occasionally met dragons slightly larger than herself and she doubted whether they would have fitted through the gap at all. As it was, she had to suck her ribs in to make it through. Wasting no time and needing to make room for others, she began to stride along the right-hand wall, walking in a mostly straight line for some time before the path abruptly bent back on itself. Coming to a halt, she stared hard at the u-turn. Following the path would be the easiest option… but what would she gain by going back the way she came? There was a thin place in the crystal before her, through which she could see more walls. What was the point in dithering about with a maze when she could simply break her way through? Calling out a warning to the dragons assembled behind her, she pivoted and swung her club into the wall. The crystal may have been strong enough to withstand a human or even a lesser dragon trying to break through, but it was no match for a clubtail’s destructive power. Leaving shards of feebly glowing crystal all over the floor, the wall smashed. The hole it left wasn’t big enough for Anaekileya to fit through, but another quick smash from her tail soon fixed the issue, and the dragons proceeded onwards.

She made no attempt to navigate the maze; any barriers they encountered were dealt with easily enough. No matter how much they pressed to the right-hand side of the maze, they kept seeming to be turned round to the left, and if Vythiweiah’s group had entered the same maze then Anae didn’t doubt that her own group would be the second to arrive at their destination. This, of course, did nothing but motivate her further to speed through the caves, and she broke walls with impunity until they finally arrived in a huge cavern where a lake glistened darkly before them, scarcely visible in the light cast by the crystal maze. Besides her own group, who she now counted out as they spilled from the final hole she had smashed in the maze, she couldn’t see a sign of another dragon, and felt a slight spike of panic. Where was her sister? Now was not the time to be worrying about Vy; if anyone could take care of themselves, it was her. All the same, though, she felt a slight niggle as she called out to the assembled dragons.
“The others must have gone on ahead. We want to be able to see; take some of the chunks of crystal which broke off the wall there and carry them with us. They might give some light, should we need it. We will travel around this lake; there seems to be some light on the other side. It must be another tunnel.” A general murmur of assent ran through the group as they set off, their pace quickened now that they were out of the narrow passageways of the maze and trying to catch up to the rest of Maledictus Eice. As a result they made good time around the lake, reaching the entrance to a new tunnel and gratefully dropping lumps of obstinately glowing crystal from their mouths as they turned into this differently-lit passage.

The realisation took a moment, but it wasn’t long after entering the tunnel that the dragons noticed the drawings etched across the walls. Their purposeful speed slackened somewhat as they tried to take it all in, baffled for some time as to the nature and purpose of the images- were they some kind of ancient mythology? They depicted no tale that Anae knew- until finally they came to the baffling realisation that these were events which had taken place on Dragons Cove itself. After what seemed like an age of craning her head about to see all of the pictures which had been painstakingly recorded here, the clubtail finally came to a halt as she saw the figures of many dragons further along the passage. More than anything, she wished to call out to her sister, but she found herself abruptly gripped with a reluctance to make any noise which wasn’t necessary. Gesturing the others to follow her, she began to run along the corridor with a rolling, ground-shaking gait which the smaller dragons surely wouldn’t have been able to keep up with for any longer than the short stretch of tunnel separating the two groups.

“Sister,” Anaekileya finally said as she pulled to a halt beside Vy’s distinctive figure, her voice saturated with relief. “You are well. None of our number has been harmed, I see. We are fortunate.” The two briefly updated each other on their journeys as the dragons of ME looked about this new location with curiosity, before returning their attention to the task at hand. Anae was unable to help herself from eyeing the pit of bones with some trepidation, remembering the foes they had faced at the top of the caves, but it was only moments before she learnt that the skeletons were not what they had to fear here.

A great rumbling announced the opening of the temple’s doors, echoing about the chamber as the marble swung outwards to reveal a behemoth with its head bowed to push against them. For a moment all Anae could look at was the dragon. It was beyond imagining, easily outstripping her in size and then some. If the temple had looked oversized before, then it didn’t now; indeed, the statue of the guardian above this dragon’s head seemed trivially small now. With a lurch of unease, Anae remembered that she was just that size. How could they begin to fight such a beast? Its scales seemed to have a deep blue base, but lighter shades of blue highlighted it in places, along with purplish tones and the odd flush of a different colour. Clusters of spines rose around its thickly muscled shoulders, running up along its neck to another group on the back of its head. These stood on end as it lifted its massive head to regard them steadily with dark eyes. As it moved into the bluish light, Anae noticed gold highlights shimmering along its length, and- perhaps more alarming- claws to rival her own on its feet. That was saying nothing of its teeth, huge fangs curling over its lower lip, or the horns which emerged beyond the spines on its head. They looked more than capable of goring a lesser dragon. As the dragons watched, dumbstruck, the beast slowly lifted its tail, assuming a threatening position. More spines bristled there, seemingly somehow menacing- but surely they wouldn’t be the threat- and, for the first time, Anae noticed that seated on the dragon’s back was a human figure. Immediately she stiffened in disdain, spikes on her head rising slowly. Dragons which allowed human scum to ride upon their back were despicable, whether or not they were the largest dragon she had ever laid eyes upon. This human, too, seemed larger than many- though not outside the realms of normal, like the dragon was. But it was tall, and thickly muscled; evidently it fancied himself some kind of warrior. Yes, there was its sword, strapped across its back. No doubt it had other weapons stashed away too, thinking itself clever and prepared. It was almost pitiful, really.

Once she had got past her initial shock, she began to realise that there was something odd about the pair. Something about them felt off, wrong somehow- not to mention that there was such a strong aura of magic about them that she felt it should practically be a visible haze. Studying them, she couldn’t understand what was wrong with them. They appeared normal enough, or the dragon did- she was less experienced with humans. It was a little off-colour, perhaps.
“Dragons,” said the human now, cutting off her thoughts and taking her by surprise. It thought to address them, did it? “You are a welcome sight, after so many years of solitude. What brings you here, may I ask?” Its tone seemed relaxed and friendly enough, but Anaekileya was no fool. The human was obviously eyeing them up for fight, not to mention its enslaved dragon; with a tense, confrontational stance she met the behemoth’s gaze. This could mean nothing good for them, she was sure.

The dragons divided into two groups as they approached the maze, and Oceianna followed the route that Vy had taken. She was a considerable distance behind the clubtail, as she couldn’t quite keep up with Vy’s determined strides, but as she heard the crashing ahead she realised this was probably a good thing. If she was too close, a flying piece of crystal could easily have done her serious damage. She felt safe in the now-broken maze for some reason – like this challenge was not a physical one, and therefore one she could easily manage. In fact, she soon found herself in a wide chamber, with a lake in the middle. For a moment she felt the urge to swim through the water, and walked right up to the edge of the lake, before realising that she had no idea what may already be waiting in the bottom of the deep pool. She did paddle at the very edge to make her way around, letting the water wash over her tired feet, but she didn’t swim as she would have liked to. Although her magic type was healing, the form of a tear dragon and indeed their method of healing was very much suited to water, so she had always felt safe near it. If it weren’t for the two-leg that had chased her from her home, she would probably still be living in that greenish rock-pool that she had hatched near.

Finding herself at the other side of the water, Ocei jumped away from the edge of the lake. The memory of the two leg who, for all intents and purposed, may as well have been her rider until recently, had made her fear the water. That woman had a way of vanishing into the smallest of pools, and returning as a monster. She didn’t think she could face that kind of monster again for a very long while – not until she was stronger. Next time she saw that… that beast, she wanted to be able to rip her throat out.

The wide tunnel was easy to spot, and was the only obvious way forward, so without waiting to see who else had taken that route, she padded towards it, leaving damp footprints as she went. The paintings escaped her attention for a while, but when she finally noticed them, she shuddered. They felt entirely too grand, and whenever she recognised a figure from some story or another it sent shivers down her spine. Of course she recognised the Arch Mage when he appeared, and the Guardians, but she wasn't sure that the scenes surrounding them were a welcome sight. She hadn’t realised quite how much blood had been shed in the founding of the cove. It also reminded her of what the world was turning into now – the murders of the dragons, the torture… she hadn’t seen it when she was young, when things were harmonious, but now they all seemed to be coming back. Maybe there would be another Arch Mage, who would make it all better like last time… or maybe this time the Dragons would be stronger, and they wouldn’t need a saviour. She hoped it would be the latter.

When she finally caught up with Vy, she breathed out quickly in a sigh of relief. She had been holding her breath for the last stretch of corridor, but she hadn’t noticed until then. She waited silently by the clubtail’s side for the rest of the dragons to reach them.

--

Dyavol grinned as Anae began to break walls. Every time she swung her tail he got twirled around in his seat atop her head, but it was worth it to see the crystal walls shatter like they did. He thought the whole journey through the maze was excellent fun, even when he had to tuck himself under Anea’s head spines to avoid the ceiling. It was pleasing the see shards of crystal on the ground when they emerged into the wider chamber too – Vy must have had a very similar idea. It was astonishing how closely the clubtail sisters’ minds worked.

The next part of their journey was very different, however. Dyavol had enjoyed the maze, but the corridor of images… it made his blood boil. As he didn’t have to carry himself, his attention was fixed entirely on the crude paintings. The very fact that the paintings were made by human hands was enough to annoy him, but when he saw what the humans in the paintings were doing, he all but lost control. That the painter of these panels was so proud of the torture of their kind made him feel sick. The proud, mighty dragons, brought to their knees by the humans… no, it was too much. His wings flared and he leapt from his spot atop Anae’s head, landing on the painted panel. He held on the dimples in the stone with his tiny claws, and pulled back his barbed tail. He wanted to scratch out the eyes of the painted human, to destroy the image because it made him hurt, deep inside. Humans had always been careless and brutal, or so the images suggested, and he couldn’t stand to see the painting any longer. He was about to scratch the pigment away from the wall when one of the other dragons stopped him, knocking him away from the wall. Fenrir, the wolf dragon. He obviously hadn’t wanted to hurt Dyavol, but he had at least stopped him from ruining the paintings. They were old, and really ought to stay how they were. Dyavol hissed, but returned to his seat at the top of Anae’s head. His anger could simmer and wait until Dyavol could use it again.

The next few panels lightened his mood. The two legs had turned on themselves, and the cruel looking cages had other two legs trapped inside. Good riddance, it was just a shame that not all of them had met the same, sticky fate. He had no compassion for them, and found the scenes of humans torturing each other rather amusing. He was grinning to himself, all of his needle-teeth bared in a cruel smile.

Then the Guardians were created. He was disappointed. The Guardians were supposed to be the saviours of their kind, but where were they now? Not where they should be, helping the dragons of Maledictus Eice, that was for sure. He flattened himself down, hiding his head as them moved. He didn’t care to see any more. The idyllic scenes of peace were nonsense – lies, all of them. There was no peace in the cove, only pain. He only uncovered his eyes again when they stopped, glad to see that the panels here were plain again.

There was no time to greet the others properly, only mentaly check that their numbers hadn’t dwindled. Everyone was accounted for, but the marble doors to the…Dyavol wanted to call it a temple?... swung open, and the sight inside was enough to turn his stomach.

--

Oceianna watched the doors open as the others arrived, and almost cowered away. Never in all her days had she seen such a huge dragon, nor such a huge human. The worst was the sword that the man was carrying, however. The deep scars either side of her spine had been carved with just such a weapon, and it made her feel sick just to look at the blade. She stood her ground, however, and looked at the pair with an emotionless look. She couldn’t tell from the dragon’s face if he was a willing servant or a prisoner, but no matter which it was, that wouldn’t stop the pair of them crushing the whole group. All she could do was stare.

--

The dragon and human pair made Dyavol feel sick. Either the human had enslaved the gigantic beast, which Dyavol doubted the man could have managed, or the more disturbing alternative: the creature had gladly sided with the two-leg. That boiling anger that had been disturbed in the painted corridor surfaced again, his scales flushing darker as the blood ran through the skin beneath them hot and angry. He stayed put until one of the clubtails gave an order, however, as he knew they would want to settle certain matters before starting a full on attack on the pair. Instead he ran through the various points on a two-leg that fountained black blood when they were cut, satisfying himself with those dark thoughts while he waited.

When the human spoke, his secondary wings rose and his scales rustled defensively. Lies, no human was glad to see a dragon unless the dragon in question was at their mercy. No matter the size of the pair, they couldn’t be a match for the dragons of ME. Dyavol listened angrily, staring at the dragon in an attempt to understand how the creature had allowed himself to be captured. Nothing here made sense, it was all so WRONG.

(permission from Eldar to include Fenrir's actions, discussed in CB)
(lemmeknow if anything needs changing)

The chaos and destruction they had left in their wake, or rather which only the clubtail sisters had wrecked, was quickly forgotten when the wolf dragon’s eyes took in the room opening wide before them. All the paintings on the wall were breathtaking in their detail and the work that had been put into them. Now Fenrir was not a dragon particularly interested in art or anything related thereto, but he realised that this was quite extraordinary and it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Not that he had travelled the island far and wide. As annoyed as he was at some of the scenes depicted, it seemed as though this had happened a very long time ago.

When Dyavol suddenly launched himself and made to scratch up the panels, Fenrir quickly intervened, preventing the small butterfly dragon from creating any damage. “Calm yourself. This has happened a very long time ago or do you see anything in there that reminds you of anything actually having happened in any of our lifetimes?” The question was barely audible but Fenrir wasn’t concerned about who might or might not hear what he had to say. It was fascinating, and the various reactions of the dragons all around him spoke volumes about their emotions. Probably more than they’d like to admit. He himself was quite shaken to see the carnage though he quickly told himself that it was a long time ago – just like he had just tried to explain to Dyavol – and he insisted in telling himself that this was not what they, as Maledictus Eice, were doing. This was not the kind of carnage they were leaving in their wake. Was it?

Like Dyavol however, his eyes stuck to the panels with the Guardian dragons longer than any other of the panels. Where were those famed Guardian dragons now? Where had they been all these years when dragons had been oppressed? A lot of the thoughts running through Fenrir’s head however were not necessarily just his own but also those planted inside his mind by the clubtail sisters. He did however know that sightings of the Guardians had become rarer and rarer over the years, and there had even been rumours that they may not exist anymore.

After everything they had already seen in these caves, the wolf dragon had not expected however to run into some sort of stony spirit or whatever they were supposed to be, the dragon and the human who had suddenly appeared after Vy had knocked down yet another wall. The knight even spoke to them and Fenrir almost jumped in surprise at the sound. He had a reply ready on his tongue, but he wasn’t about to take the risk. The clubtail sisters already wanted his meat on a barbecued stick, he didn’t want to give them any more reason to fry him in case he said the wrong thing and called chaos down upon them. Not that it would make all too much of a difference at that moment anymore. There was chaos all around them anyway and Fenrir felt slightly oppressed by the weight of all the stone and crystals around and above him. There was just too much.

Backing away a few steps, Fenrir found himself at the back of the group again, surveying each and every one of them to see if he was the only one reluctant to address yet another magical being – his encounter with the spirit had not been a nice one after all. “Hey... where is Gerris?” Not that he liked the fume dragon and would have loved to hear about his demise, but Gerris had also had not been afraid to speak his mind every now and then even if it opposed the opinion of the clubtail sisters. And more than once, Fenrir had agreed with what he had said. But where was the dragon now?

Since his and Fenrir’s reprimand by one of the clubtails- he didn’t even care to remember which one- Syn had kept quiet and as far back in the little line of dragons as allowed. If it had been possible to escape, he would have turned right around a good hour before and scarpered, but there was no such luck for the cowardly desert chaser. Those clubtails were a pair of bitches all right, forcing him ahead when he would have liked nothing better than to just be up in the rainforest, a long way away from here. Even Halosis was better than this.

When they got to the maze, Syn followed Anaekileya, hoping she would be easier to evade than her sister. He nearly leapt out of his skin when she decided to just break herself a new route through to the next part of the caves, his fur all standing on end like a startled cat at the first time, and not settling down until Anae had finished with all her wilful destruction and they had emerged the other side. Although she had been surprisingly careful with where the debris had flown, they were all coated in a fine layer of crystal dust, and he could see it glittering on his nose and front paws as he crept after the other dragons, not nearly as eager to carry on as some of them. There was more water in front of them now, and it made a dark stain on the ground like ink. Syn made sure to keep well away from that (and the other dragons, too) as they circled round it, Anae pressing onwards quickly to find her sister and the rest of her precious followers.
A spiteful part of Syn hoped that they were stuck back in the maze, crushed under crystal or lost for good.

As much as he didn’t like the idea of being eaten by monsters that might appear behind them, Syn continued to linger at the back of the group, coming to a complete halt once they got to the mouth of the next part of the caverns, a tunnel.
He might have been a disagreeable, grumpy sort of dragon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate beautiful things. That in front of them was definitely beautiful; undervalued by the other dragons too, as they passed through the tunnel relatively quickly. Syn however, was going to take his own sweet time.
Especially when there was another nameless monster no doubt waiting for them at the other end.
As certain parts of the wall were already taken up with the others looking at it (or trying to destroy it, Dyavol, that little bastard), Syn took a couple of laps up and down the mural, taking an overview before looking at the drawings themselves… a history of Dragons’ Cove, that was clear to see, once he had grasped the concept. But… this showed humans much earlier than when the Arch Mage arrived being on the isle- Syn could tell him from the others quite clearly.
And blood, the isle had been drenched in it over the years. But that was impossible, Dragons’ Cove had never seen war! So what was this?

He paced up and down the wall, trying to figure out from those points he already knew what had happened beyond that. What really stuck in his mind though, was why he hadn’t known of these things before now. Why had there been no stories that involved blood, fire, dragons tortured by humans before, the advent of the guardians and how they banished all the darkness before them… the two clubtails surely would not have forgotten to mentions stories such as those if they had known of them. So why had they been hidden? What else was lurking in the history of Dragons’ Cove?
Syn knew he was missing things shown in the mural, that he had looked too quickly, but it would take more than just him to figure out the mysteries painted all around them. It was incentive enough for him not to venture any further forwards.

==X==

((I am controlling Celen now so, poke me if I am not snappy about replies to battle attacks =) Have at.
Also I will have him do something tomorrow when I am not dead feeling <3))

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