ORIGIN

Nemean's disgusting spectacle was obliterated. It hadn't gone out without her trademark cacophony, which only served to successfully distract him and take his eyes away from whatever Gembounds were left fleeing in his wake. The sights and sounds exploded and then fizzled into the remnants of the illusion, and Raheerah snarled, whipping his gaze out across the ruined city.

Where. Was. She.

She was at the top of his list. Everybody, everything was on his list, but Nemean? That aggravating, petulant little termite had to go. He only wished that she was bigger, so that he could truly relish crunching her little body in his teeth and swallowing her down.

His search didn't last long. The instant her voice hit the air, Raheerah zeroed in on her. A glowing yellow speck among the blaze illuminating the cave, sheathing herself in blinking arrows and bold beacons, hailing him. No, taunting him. What was that in her hands? That dead heart--valves dripping--shine lost? His beloved--the only treasure that he called his in this rancid place, this purgatory he had consigned himself to--in her filthy little hands. She wielded it like it was a bargaining chip. Everything, everything that he existed for was condensed down into that stone, that dead rock, his Dawa. The remains of her. All along it was in Nemean's hands.

She didn't know the depth of the lamb's importance. Nobody did, and perhaps that was by design. But Raheerah had long since abandoned trying to focus his hatred and rage on a single transgressor.

All he was now was hatred.

All he was now was rage.

She and everything in this forsaken nest would burn.

"RRAAAUUUUGHH!" the dragon bellowed, launching after her at full speed, brewing a firestorm in his chest so hot it rivaled the fury of stars.

As noted in the discord, this thread will be restricted to just me and CJ posting from here on out. The thread will reopen to other characters afterward.

Each billowing wingbeat carried him closer, closer, closer to the glowing sprite. Her tricks confused him easily; his eyes couldn't follow her as well as he'd hoped, and there were times that he would fixate on a cloud of sparkles mistaken for Nemean that he would scorch, only to find the flames licking into nothingness. And each time it yielded a shriek from the dragon, his rage tantamount to the growing intensity of each spout of fire he conjured. He thought he had come close to scorching her several times, but each time she escaped, darting just out of reach. Infuriatingly so.

He heard her little voice bouncing off of the cavern walls like an annoying itch he couldn't sate. Digging into his head, 'Brug.

It was a memory of a past life. It was two men leering at him, him, goliath over his lamb. It was condescension and shackles. She didn't even know what it represented--that scar seared into his heart.

"GIVE HER TO ME!" he screamed, mustering a great lungful of burning air. He pinpointed her this time, sizzling through the air like a baubled trinket, and unleashed another gout of flame. He'd rend all of the flesh from her little bird bones. He'd make an example out of her to all these failed and warped mockeries of purpose!

In a blinding flash of furious fire, the sprite was consumed. Raheerah was met with a rush of satisfaction seeing her diminutive little figure disappear into the plasma. Seeing her fizzle away into burning gore, into boiling blood and popping skin, turning to ash before his very eyes--dead, after so long of listening to her taunts, suffering through her unbearable dialogue. He remembered every second in which her voice grated on the inside of his mind. If there was one thing he and Aquarian could agree on, it was that Nemean was hardly worth the effort it took to bring her here alongside the rest of them.

And yet--she flew still.

As Raheerah screeched to a halt, watching the fireball dissipate into an igneous black and orange cloud, his great wingbeats heralded the churning, spinning debris of a single remaining trail.

SHE SURVIVED?

"NO!" the dragon roared, lunging after her again. Desperation climbed up his throat. The stone--she still had the stone--still clung to it, for what reason? It was his. Was she praying for the worst imaginable death? Because he would give it to her, gladly. "NEMEAN!" he shrieked, shredding the air as he soared after her, only to see her disappear into the tunnel. This one was too small for him to fit into, but it didn't mean he wouldn't try to pummel his way through. The dragon crashed into the rock right on Nemean's tail and mustered another thick cloud of flame, only his head capable of fitting through the threshold. He screamed and bellowed and slathered the tunnel in scorching fire, hot enough to liquify stone, the manifestation of all his rage poured into indomitable energy--

And it still wasn't enough.

"NEMEAN! NEMEAN!" the dragon's voice tore through the cavern. "GIVE HER TO ME! I'LL BURN THIS NEST BACK INTO THE MAGMA IT WAS MADE FROM! RRAAAAAAUGH!"

But threats were worth nothing if he couldn't act on them.

Enraged, the dragon ripped away from the cavern entrance. His massive wings struck the air and lifted him up high, and he circled the room several more times, leaving high walls of fire in his wake before taking to the distant ceiling passages and disappearing into the darkness. But evidence of the dragon remained: in the burning and melted stone, in the Hellish remains of the city, in the sound of his wrath ebbing as ominous echoes into the void.

Exit Raheerah

This thread is reopened. Characters may resume posting. Note that at the time of this thread, Tunnel M is badly damaged and difficult to traverse due to the presence of fire, lava, and a high air temperature.

Pride lay cowering behind the Throne: no king, no hero, only terrified. The stench of burning--of burning everything--filled his nostrils. The rage of Raheerah--admirable in its purity, but terrible in its pain--roared through his mind.

Only when the dragon fled, only when Pride saw the black depths of the narrow tunnel through with Nemean had fled, and flame filling it, did his mind-link with Raheerah at last fall away. He half-collapsed, gasping. Pride was a creature of action, and two paths immediately presented themselves to him: to stay here, to round up the wounded, to try and help them somehow. Or to follow, to find out what the hell this was all about, and to keep tabs on Raheerah's location for the safety of them all. And, for knowledge.

He did not want to follow too closely. He didn't think it'd be wise--and as he clattered out toward the tunnel, into the open--into the scorched and smoking ruins of Orion--he realized it might not even be possible. The bass thumps of the dragon's wingbeats were receding, but in his wake were torrents of glowing, liquid rock and snarling flame.

He paused and looked back. The city, such as it was, was in ruins; stone fell and dripped orange, fires raged on pure rock. There were no cries for help--whoever had been there had gotten out... or died.

The stag grimaced and turned back. He dodged and dashed his way toward the tunnel entrance, knowing grimly that he was losing ground fast. And as he arrived he could see that actually heading through was out of the question. He wasn't aware that Nassir had fled this way--didn't know his fate, not yet--he only knew that Raheerah had gone here, and rendered the tunnel damn near untraversable.

Pride grimaced again, and came as close as he dared to the roaring flames. He'd already had to skid past quite a number, and the searing heat watered his eyes and parched his throat; there were soot-blackened patches across his white fur. He could not go through, not even with a shield: it might save him from the flames, but not from the baking heat. And he doubted he could hold a connection to the dragon's mind--if he lost it, he wouldn't get it back in a hurry. Another idea occurred to him, then, and he fell silent and focused, staring stubbornly into the fire of the tunnel, willing his magicka to go through for him.

The stag shimmered, and a second him seemed, in the mirage of heat, to step away. This one was unburnt, pristine, and for a moment, appeared ghostly: and an instant later it had taken a great bound into the flames, vanishing in pursuit--so to speak--of the great dragon.

Pride fell still and silent, focusing grimly on maintaining and guiding this Drift double through the fire and out the other side: he did not want to miss this.