Manek Iridius Sat Jan 09, 2016 1:43 amTen years, shi'd deliberated. The O'Halloran clan was growing quickly, over two short generations the half-dragons that were bred in Tiamat's name had formed into one of Her most outlying cults. Though order permeated the society, it was the core of their goddess's belief, the frank truth of supremacy that reverberated through their dogma: those with the will to control their world would thrive, those without would serve, suffer, and be snuffed from existence.
Tsuukara O'Halloran agreed.
The blue dragoness was an imposing figure, standing nearly six and a half feet tall and carrying a build suitable for her frame. Shi was no waifish magician, or agile fencer; muscles flexed underneath hir scales each time shi moved, hir entire body all but rippling with each motion shi made. A true example of natural dominance, hir elders had called her as shi grew, ruthlessly rising in prestige and power from the stock of the Society's 'chaff'. Hir father had been a weak human male – her mother, a dragon timid by her race's standards... early in hir life shi'd been reminded, constantly, of hir sub-par heritage.
They finally recognized hir strength when shi'd overpowered hir first master and reversed their roles, claiming hir first servant and reducing a once-proud red half-dragon to a piece of furniture and a well-used hole.
The night was cold, but the unit gathered on the bluff overlooking their target scarcely noticed for their scales and natural inclination against the elements. This was too important to leave to mere thralls; a bastion of Bahamut's followers was seen as no threat to be taken lightly, especially as the cult's first true jaunt out into the public eye. They were Tiamat's children, yes, but not inherently deserving of their position. No... this half-blooded cult had to carve their own path into their world if their Lady were to find pride in their devotion.
“Cassul reporting, Mistress.” A voice murmured from the darkness as a black-scaled half-dragon slipped into view behind Tsuukara, hir earfin twitching as shi turned hir attention from the view of the stronghold to hir rogue's report. “Their forces are weaker than we expected: smooth-skinned mortals man the walls, and the rats have yet to find any hint of a true draconic presence.”
“I've no use for the flesh of man...” shi muttered to hirself as shi straightened up. Were shi to claw hir way to full control of hir clan, shi'd need proof of hir dominance – not just over those within the fold, but those who kept as far as they could from its ideals, as well.
“Mistress?”
“Ready the ballista.” the hermaphrodite finally replied, straightening up and turning to face the rogue who reported to hir. “Once we're clear of the bluff, fire on their gates until either they break, or the chaff within begin reinforcing them; join us afterwards.”
“By your will.” came the response, the rogue slipping away as Tsuukara raised a hand, snapping hir fingers as shi walked towards the mixed-colour unit of chromatic half-dragons shi'd picked for the assault. Admittedly, shi'd anticipated a stronghold more akin to the O'Halloran nest – tight, narrow entrances to a cavern network, guarded by thralls and tools alike. Instead, shi'd been presented with the most basic of mortal fortresses. Its walls were sturdy, yes, but a with a wise selection of large first-generation soldiers and the winged second generation of O'Halloran dragons chosen for the strike, they were literally meaningless.
Inside the walls, mortal races of all stripes stood guard and patrolled the grounds in Bahamut's name, strong in conviction – but weak in prowess. It was the 'knocking' of the ballista that first drew their attention, the forces within the fort rushing to shore up their main defense against what would surely be a more fearsome ground attack to come. They were a remote fortress, unaware that they had aroused the O'Halloran clan's attention, and even less prepared to be assailed by true agents of the deity they had yet to openly oppose.
Tsuuka's strikeforce descended, quickly and mercilessly onto the defenders, their weapons still sheathed in favour of the stone and silt they had been ordered to reinforce their gates with. Reinforcements rushed out from within, armed with bow and pike to fight off their assailants... but the battle was a short, brutal one. Confident in the devotion – or fanaticism – of hir warriors, Tsuukara was quick to make hir way into the fortress's depths, cutting down warrior and shaman alike as shi looked for hir true goal.
Shi had been granted the right to be the first to announce their presence to their enemies, and her success had been secured as much by hir enemy's weakness as it was by hir strength. It wasn't enough: anger began to well within her as shi entered the subterranean assembly room, yet another unit of mortals bravely charging hir and all but falling onto hir blade.
It wasn't truly effortless, but still the dragoness had little to fear from the assailants closing in on her – until they suddenly parted, a gout of flame seeming to push the group of bodies to the sides as it engulfed the dragoness, who let out a scream borne of pain and surprise as it dissipated as quickly as it appeared, leaving hir to regain hir senses and snap hir attention forward – to a stunning gold-scale dragoness not thirty feet from where shi stood, readying a vicious-looking naginata and stepping forward.
“Mercy seems in short supply...” the shining woman said darkly as the sounds of a battle already lost waged above her, leveling her polearm at the blue leader in front of her. “...such that our first opponents would be Tiamat's zealots.”
Tsuukara, previously stunned by the sudden attack, held back a grin as shi straightened, sizing up the gold dragoness in front of hir as the din of warfare grew ever closer, then faded out, several members of hir unit advancing into the room as shi considered hir response, the tension in the room quickly rising to unbearable levels for the good-aligned warriors within.
“Zealotry seems awfully common these days.” shi eventually said, looking over the brave souls standing before hir, weapons still at the ready. “Such blind faith leading to such tragic downfall... if only more gods preached the truth.”Hir unit needed no orders beyond that, descending on the hapless force in front of them like scythes upon the farmer's grain. The only truly skilled combatant amoungst them was their leader, and it wasn't long before a well-aimed strike cleaved her weapon apart, the shortened blade quickly being overrun by the blue-scale and hir reinforced claymore.
Still, she fought on, bringing the broken haft of her weapon around to swing at Tsuuka's unguarded head only to receive a blistering face full of her opponent's lightning-imbued breath weapon, sending her reeling back and clutching at her sudden, unexpected injuries. Searing pain was soon eclipsed by blissful unconsciousness as Tsuukara followed up with a vicious pommel strike to her temple, laying her out cold and leaving the O'Halloran strikeforce the victors.
Straightening up and resting hir blade on hir shoulder, Tsuukara caught hir breath from the battle that had ensued and stepped forward, looking down to hir defeated opponent, bringing a footpaw to rest on her chest as shi turned to look back, discovering shi'd been the last to finish hir fight. Only fitting, shi thought, having claimed the strongest opponent, that shi'd been left to hir battle. What leader deserved hir unit if shi couldn't fight toe-to-toe with its opposing commander? Pride swelled within the hermaphrodite as shi looked back down to hir defeated enemy.
“Chain her.” shi ordered as shi stepped back, gesturing to the fallen gold-scale with hir head. “We'll hold this fortress for the next several days.”
“Mistress...” the rogue who'd reported before the attack stepped forward, crouching down to begin restraining their defeated enemy. “Is this fort of any real use to us? I think we should simply destroy it-”
“It belongs to the clan.” Tsuukara snapped, quickly gaining the rogue's undivided attention, forcing him to struggle and keep his composure under the cutting words of his commander. “We'll destroy it when it suits us, not a moment before. Frost?”
Though he had a protest to voice, the rogue wisely kept silent, bowing his head as a bulky, first-generation white-scale stepped forward, gathering the comparatively small gold in his arms. “Where to put?” Frost asked, clearly born of a white dragon and a large, equally-intelligent creature: though no-one could claim he wasn't accurately named.
“Find the most opulent room in the fort and restrain her there; I'll be up momentarily. Ferrah, Cassul, begin cleanup and get any of their survivors to their dungeons.” came the response as Tsuukara turned, heading towards the courtyard where the battle had been won. Ten years, shi'd deliberated, and now, heady from hir first real conquest and revving on the adrenaline it produced, shi'd produce a descendant.
