It was a grim few months before the end began.
Metal beasts flew in every now and then. Each one had to be tricked into Fearless One's jaws in a different way. The death-prey found new ways to fortify them at each turn. More and more dragons fell each time the beast flew in, until it was eventually considered that the dragons might need to leave their home. At some point, the death-prey began coating themselves in the scales and bones of fallen dragons and wyverns, as if to mock the monsters. All around the world, fights were breaking out between groups of death-prey and their corpses, and nests of dragons, conflicts that left the ground ravaged and stained with blood. Whispers of a living mountain being brought down by death-prey did little to improve morale. Forests were levelled, swamps were dried, and rocky mountains were left with gaping holes in their sides.
But all was not lost. After a few weeks, a miracle happened. Furious One stood up on his own shaking legs. Small One would admit to snuggling up to him and purring when he finally managed to haul himself up, noting that she now stood about halfway between his wrist and his elbow in height. Once the infection cleared from his chest wound, it began to close up quickly. A huge, ugly patch of pale, discoloured scales would forever mark the spot where the corpse had grabbed him, and the small ruff of spikes would likely never regrow, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered to Small One. Even with help from the one-horns, he still wasn't at full strength after a few months. The abomination's jagged teeth and the sickness they inflicted had taken a hefty toll on him.
As soon as Wise One and Stern One would let him, Furious One retook his position as leader, accompanied by the cheers of those dragons who were still alive and hadn't deserted. He made quite the show of examining the growing pile of metal chunks, frightening off a few pack hunters that had made it their home. With his usual aplomb, he gave a grand speech promising victory over the death-prey, though Small One couldn't help but notice how he sounded just the slightest bit unsure. When Furious One was back in charge, the dragons became a lot more proactive in the war. Small One would chalk that up to the awe inspired by Furious One. Even with a giant ugly scar on his chest, he carried with him an air of dignity that no other dragon could hope to match.
Still, as much as Furious One was a help to morale, it could not be denied that the dragons were slowly, inexorably losing the battle. Fewer dragons returned after each battle. Silverscales and one-horns reported entire nests being slaughtered, leaving nothing but desecrated corpses to bake in the sun. The seas no longer hummed with the songs of the great bearded swimmers, and the deserts were still and silent without the rockback dragons to keep the sand flowing. For each small, insignificant death-prey nest that was destroyed, two more would spring up. The death-prey became harder to kill with each passing day, finding ways to cloak themselves in the skin of dead monsters, and finding ways to imbue their weapons with the fury of the elements. The dragons did their best to spread word of how to slay the corpses, but the death-prey responded by making them harder to pull apart, or by shifting their weak spots to harder-to-reach places. It was an arms race, and the dragons were falling behind.
Small One took part in the skirmishes, when she could. When distractions were part of the plan, or when a small dragon was needed to access something, she was brought along. The death-prey quickly grew wise to the use of baby dragons as lures, leaving Small One to try and figure out new ways to distract them. Seldom did any trick work more than once. To her dismay, though her horns had lengthened over time, she couldn't summon more than a headache from them. Commanding the forces of nature would have made her quite the boon in battle, she felt. Particularly since glitterscales like her could summon four different elements. The death-prey were quick to adapt, but they had yet to find a way to confer resistances to more than one element at a time. Bold One usually came along with Small One during battles, with Clever One watching their back. Working together, the three dragonlings usually managed to come away with no more than a few minor wounds.
Still, the dragons were losing the war. They were just barely holding what little ground they had, and even that was slipping away. It was in this dire situation that Furious One summoned the dragons of the crater to a meeting. Small One noted grimly that she no longer had to climb onto anyone's back to see through the crowd. Bold One settled next to her, and Small One purred, shoving her nose into her warm mane. Bold One had grown too, with a thicker mane than she'd had before. Her wings were broader too, shedding enough dust for small explosions. Small One stretched her own wings and examined them critically, keeping one eye on Furious One.
As soon as Furious One determined that every dragon was gathered, he began to speak. He brought grim tidings, speaking of how dragons all around the world were falling to the death-prey. He spoke of their seemingly endless numbers, and how they had grown frustrating difficult to kill. Small One listened intently, idly wondering why he gathered all of the dragons if all he intended to do was depress them by telling them things they already knew. Then Furious One said something that gave her pause. He spoke of a bold, daring idea. A plan of attack which, if it worked, would most likely mark a turning point in the war. He spoke of staging an attack on the death-prey's stronghold, the central nest to which they reported all tidings of war.
There was uproar when his message reached the crowd. Confused growls and angry snarls at the ridiculous suggestion. Furious One silenced them all with a roar of his own. Small One had to admit she wasn't sure where he was going with this. They could barely take on small nests. To challenge the stronghold would be suicide. Still, Furious One carried on, detailing his idea. The dragons would form a massive warband, leaving the crater unguarded. Fearless One would act as a carrier, and along the way they would recruit any dragons they could, and any wyverns who were willing to stop ignoring the problem and help.
When they reached the stronghold, they would lay siege to it. Fearless One would use her massive bulk and strength to push her way into the fortress and damage as much of it as possible, while the other dragons mobbed the death-prey and killed as many of them as they could, making sure to destroy any weapons that could potentially harm Fearless One. Then, when the stronghold was at their mercy, the dragons would either crush it, or, failing that, simply wait it out. Small One thought it sounded like a bad idea. The death-prey would have the advantage, both in numbers and in knowledge. Fearless One wasn't subtle enough for a surprise attack. She could hear mutters to similar effect from the crowd.
Still, Furious One was the leader, and she would defer to him. After all, it was possible that she was simply not seeing something that he was. A five month old dragonling wasn't likely to know more about the mechanics of battle than a several hundred year old adult. Eventually, the rest of the crowd begrudgingly agreed to the plan, possibly out of desperation. Small One knew they needed a miracle to make this work with so few dragons remaining. There was only a little over two dozen dragons in condition to fight. A group only slightly smaller than this had struggled with a small nest. How would this group fare against a larger nest?
And so it was that, the next day, every dragon in the crater settled themselves onto Fearless One's back. As per usual, what few wyverns remained refused to help. In a wyvern's mind, a problem wasn't a problem until it affected them. Frustrating, but that was simply how the wyverns worked. The sky-swimmers danced about in the air, weaving storms to try and shield the living mountain from prying eyes. It was when Fearless One began to walk that Small One realised a critical problem with this plan. Fearless One was slow. She lumbered along at her own pace, always keeping three legs on the ground and occasionally pausing to shift her weight. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about most obstacles. She could effortlessly flatten what few living trees remained.
Fearless One walked, slow and steady, for two days and two nights without rest. In that time, several more dragons joined the convoy, and even a few lesser beasts. The mystical one-horns seemed rather perturbed by the gold-maned apes who had joined, but Furious One took one look at the apes' bulging muscles and fierce temperaments, and told the one-horns to get along or else. A few red fliers like the one Small One had seen in the ravine so long ago joined too, accompanied by their green mates. After some trial and error and frustrating communication attempts, Small One managed to figure out that their eggs had been stolen by death-prey, and they sought revenge.
After pausing for a rather long nap, Fearless One got moving again, carrying quite the party on her back. While she walked, in between play, Small One stretched her wings and tested the wind. She could feel flight just on the edge of her grasp. All she needed was one good push, she knew, and she could take off. She just needed to find that reason that would get her up and into the sky. Eventually, after quite the long walk, the death-prey stronghold came into view on the horizon.
Small One knew something was wrong from the moment she saw it.
A dull orange glow emanated from the great castle, and there was something strange, something twisted in the air. No matter how much she sniffed at the air, or felt the wind with her wings, Small One couldn't put her talon on what exactly was wrong. Her scales prickled with each great step Fearless One took. Something was not right. The weight of immense danger pressed down on Small One from all sides, constricting her throat and chest. Nearby, Bold One shuddered, and Clever One's eyes were darting all around. Even Furious One looked more subdued than usual, with a quiet, contemplative look in his eyes. Fearless One drew ever closer to the stronghold, the overall shape becoming clearer.
The castle was on fire. A towering inferno roared, consuming stone and wood alike. Fearless One kept walking forward, and as she did, Small One noticed the dead death-prey littering the ground and the battlements. An abomination lay in scattered pieces near the entrance to the castle, ripped apart and tossed aside in the same casual manner one might discard the fur or feathers of one's prey. Furious One, under his breath in a voice so quiet few heard it, wondered what could possibly have caused such destruction. It was then that something moved in the flames, and Small One's blood ran cold.
A serpentine neck perched atop a battlement, silhouetted against the blaze, reached down and came up with the body of a death-prey. Long, crooked horns pointed skyward, and glowing yellow orbs stared intently at the death-prey in its jaws. Short arms came up to grab the death-prey right as broad black wings unfurled. With careful motions, the massive head dipped down and sprayed a concentrated stream of white-hot flame at its own body. Fearless One thudded closer, and Small One could make out more features of the black beast, and the faintest hints of a male's scent. He held the body of the death-prey up to the patch of scales he had just burned, and Small One watched in horror as the body melted into the black beast's skin, merging seamlessly with his scales. She suddenly felt like her lungs was three sizes smaller than they had been before, and she hardly noticed that Fearless One had stopped walking.
As the castle went down in flames and the black beast picked up another body to melt onto his scales, he suddenly turned his gaze towards the approaching dragon warband. A malicious sneer crossed his face, and Small One swore that his unnatural, crystalline eyes were staring into the depths of her soul. He licked his lips, slowly and deliberately, sending shivers down Small One's spine. Those eyes were unnatural and twisted and he was wrong and he shouldn't exist and she couldn't breathe and
Suddenly, she felt the ground beneath her lurch, causing her to instinctively grip the red scales beneath her. Fearless One was shuffling her legs, slowly but surely turning around and throwing many of the dragons on her back off balance. When she had her back to the castle, she slammed down onto her front legs with a mighty quake and began to move, faster than Small One had ever felt her move before.
Fearless One was fleeing. Fearless One was afraid.
How much more has Furious One recovered? (/99%)
Furious One rolls a 92 + 1 = 93% recovery.
Long one (and almost late one...)! We're getting close to the end of this arc. I debated long and hard about this chapter's timeskip, but I went with it in the end because showing every single thing that happened would have dragged on far too much and become very repetitive very quickly.
To Deven, yes the lake monster was a Lagiacrus. And to the reviewer who asked about Frontier monsters, this question has actually been asked and answered in an earlier chapter, but I'll answer it again. The answer is most likely no. I don't know much about Frontier, and I'm not particularly fond of the monster designs or the way their ecology tends to screw up established lore. I don't think they mesh very well with the main series monsters, so I'll more than likely steer clear of them. Same goes for Explore and Online.