"I," here came the light before fire—Draconua shuffled back but posed as if to receive the coming flamethrower, "AM DRAGON!"

The fire pushed at her skin, forcing it to bubble and pop. Oily blood leaked from the new wounds, same as a rattling growl did from her throat. She turned away, briefly, to thrash through the pain and suffocate the fire clinging to her. Dragon's unspoken command was obliged: the tentacle recoiled away, again, and did not attempt to pick him up again.

Instead, she split her maw in a wicked grin.

"Well, then," she crowed, buzzing with magic from her rapidly-depleting stores. The Hound's voice raised into a full-on roar: "I AM DRACONUA, THE SLEEPLESS CHAOS." She reared up to her full height, inhaling as if to drench Dragon in fire as he had her.

Instead—"YOU WILL REMEMBER ME, AND YOU WILL NOT STAND IN MY WAY AGAIN!"—there were forks of black lightning, rippling from her convulsing form and stealing for Dragon's. It crackled through the mud caking her, exacerbated by every little bit of water on her hide and the rawness of her influence.

Round: 4/?
Attempt: Electrocute the hell out of Dragon as payback
Defense: Nah
Injuries: Severely burned on the entire front side, secondhand shocked

@Dragon

Midway through her shout he took another breath, spotting his chance and seizing it. ...'THE SLEEPLESS CHAOS; YOU WILL...' Blah, blah, blah. A critical eye, a hurtling spit, and boiling magma-bile was hurtled for her open maw.

He hoped it'd hit.

He hoped it'd sear down and stick and boil a massive gaping, bleeding, dying hole through her damn throat.

He did not, however, have time to observe whether or not it had, because arcs of black lightning were then rippling out, crackling and darting for his body--and agony followed. The bone spikes--already painful on their own--did nothing to protect against the magic that seized every muscle, that burnt searing lines along his nerves, that tore through him and spasmed him in agony.

Ridged tail thrashed, cry of pain strangled in his throat, and his vision swam in blackness, his body seeming to hesitate, as if to decide whether the damage was enough to kill, to warrant a chrysalis, or to leave him painfully burnt but awake and aware in the cradle of the swamp.

Round: 5/?
Attempt: Blastmelt into those speech-giving jaws
Defense: Bonecase spines
Injuries: Burned

@Draconua

She could not have escaped the gob of fire hurtling towards her mouth. It was mere fortune she had the time—and mind—to jerk away from it at all. The magma (or was it her flesh?) sizzled as it met her jawline. Part of it smacked into a curled horn and slid off, taking parts of keratin in its wake. All the while, Draconua shrieked.

"YOU... !" Every foul word came to mind, but was too abstract in her chaos-fuelled rage for her to articulate. Of course, there was no need to. Violence met violence, as was the rule of beasts.

The Hound, hissing and spitting as she tried—to no avail—to shake off the heat burning down to the bone, curled her talons around what magic remained in her being, and continued to push it into pure electricity. She would see this wretched little thing reduced to ashes if she could.

Dragon's body wouldn't make the decision whether or not he should die.

That was hers to make.

Round: 5/?
Attempt: Payback 2: Electric Boogaloo
Defense: None
Injuries: Severely burned on entire front side, secondhand shocked, currently has magma-bile stuck to left side of face

@Dragon

The screaming was distant, beyond his consciousness, which faded in and out to black. He wanted to further fight, but it seemed that his body had been damaged beyond its limits, charred and seared, and undoubtedly he had gained new scars.

Hopefully, so had she.

The second crackle that roared through his body, to seize his muscles and burn through him, again prevented him from moving. He attempted to call on his magic, instead, a distant thrill of instinct--his body was paralyzed by the agony that tore through it, he could barely think but could he simply--throw himself away?

Would she, too, die--chrysalize--from the flames to her face, the melting bile to her throat? Or would she simply wander off, too gargantuan for such damage to even slow her? Dragon didn't know--and he certainly wanted another attempt to battle her, but right now he simply could not manage. Barely a pained hiss escaped him--could escape him--before magical wings snapped out, flapped twice and lifted him, carried him-...

The alligator appeared to be escaping through the trees (a stream of steam behind him) but already his consciousness was fading back away. Escaped, was a vague and distant thought, but it was all he needed: the chrysalis was already soaring up around his chest, his gemstone engulfing him, encasing him, so that what plunged down into the Heart of Cetus a moment later was a meteor of stone the size of an adult bull alligator rather than a mess of bone and seared-black flesh.

The splash was rather large.

exit Dragon

Character: Dragon Age: +65 (65 Cycles) Magic Level: +5 (Master) ROUND 1 Attempt: +7 Penalties: -0 ROUND 2 Attempt: +3 Penalties: -0 ROUND 3 Attempt: +15 Penalties: -0 ROUND 4 Attempt: +16 Penalties: -0 ROUND 5 Attempt: +12 Penalties: -0 Total: 123

Character: Draconua Age: +2 (2 Cycles) Magic Level: +3 (Pupil) ROUND 1 Attempt: +8 Penalties: -0 ROUND 2 Attempt: +17 Penalties: -0 ROUND 3 Attempt: +19 Penalties: -0 ROUND 4 Attempt: +18 Penalties: -0 ROUND 5 Attempt: +19 Penalties: -0 Total: 86

WINNER: Dragon

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

Even on empty, the Valkhound would have pushed to continue ripping Dragon apart at the seams. If he refused to turn to ash, then she would turn him to bits.

Alas, a creature's base instinct was to protect itself. Leathery wings unfurled from nothing again, and they cast his limp form far into the sky. Even if Draconua had the means to follow him, she had immediately lost him in the mist. No silhouette was visible from below. His shadow was cast elsewhere, a falling chunk of jasper. The hefty splash! of his impact was ignored.

Flesh still sloughed from her face—and, at last, she had the wherewithal to truly acknowledge it past an instinctive jerking away from pain. Her lips peeled back into a thin grimace, and she flopped sideways. The white-hot magma sizzled and popped as it met Cetus's murky waters. Hooked claws curled into the muck.

She came up for air a minute afterwards, hissing through her gasps. A hand came up to chip off chunks of solidified magma, but what was closest to her skin was still live. She took another plunge, rinsed, and repeated. Mending herself was perhaps the only methodical thing she had ever engaged in. This spat of magma was not enough to kill her—not even to force her into her own shell—but it was an extremely painful annoyance.

Draconua glared through the pinholes of her faceplate, and chipped again at her face; until only the shiny, raw tissue was left exposed. Oily pus rushed out of every pore. Flexing her jaw worsened the pain, as did relaxing it. Even the sting of air had agony shooting through the nerve ends. It would heal with time, and her own Oil would cover the worst of it with its own irrepressible heat, but still... how dare that beast.

The Hunt went on, and her entropic fire still licked at the swamp. The Hound hoped that reptile was rotting away where he'd landed. It just was a damned shame she couldn't find him for his Oil. Perhaps in time.

For now, she could simmer in her satisfaction and glee—that was another victim of her madness. If she bided her time, there might be a chance for even more.

exit