Chapter 8: The Father
…
Reviews
Payton12: Are we getting Ghost?
In some form, yes.
Ragnarshadow: I don't think Ugin or Sarkhan will let one of the ancient dragons die …
Yes, they wouldn't. It will not be that simple just to kill one of the iconic dragons. It should be noted that every character has their own motivation. Most of the time, they don't share with others. Atarka has her own plan. Just wait and see.
…
Previously
"You have dragon blood in your veins, Little Snow. You can become much stronger, but you need to think as we do."
"Change your mind into that of a dragon. It will allow you to draw power from your essence."
…
Jon strides through the battlefield. His spear twirls and strikes at his closest enemy. The relentless tide of zombies means nothing to him. Jon channels Tarkir's mana into himself. He taps into the red mana of mountains and green mana of forests, of which Atarka land has plenty. His skin is hardened to the point that it will break steel weapon. His wolf spirit's enhance muscle is elevated to the next level that no mortal defense can withstand his attack. With his punch and kick, he obliterates the walking dead. Nothing the Silumgar's army throw at him can prevent him from reaching his target.
He doesn't bother to dodge, for their weak teeth and fangs break apart on his very body. His strategy is simple. whatever stands in front of him dies.
With a twelve-years-old Jon as a spearhead, the Atarka's force cut through Silumgar invader with ease. Whatever their enemies try to put up to challenge them, they face it head-on under Jon leadership. Demonic magic of Silumgar's Rakshasas is found wanting in the face of the raw power of Atarka's elementals. The slyness of the naga is overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of the Ainnok. With each attack, Jon maintains the momentum of his clan. Soon, he and his followers become a wedge that breaks Silumgar army in two.
And then his target joins the fray. The dragon opens its mouth and lets out a black fog. Everything that it touches melt into a puddle of tar.
"Spread out!" Shouted Jon as he sees the Deathbringer Regent attacks coming. He quickly summons his draconic power. He taps into both mountains and forests, channels the mana into himself, and turns it into a Draconic Roar.
*ROAR*
The air in front of Jon's face ignites into an emerald flame. It spread outward and upward in an uncontrollable manner. Within a blink of an eye, the flame spreads into the sky and collide head-on with the poisonous gas. His flame burns away Silumgar's regent attack whenever it touches. With the loss of his force mitigated, Jon pushes on. His enemy is in a disarray from friendly fire and ready to be routed anytime.
The battle turns sluggish as the momentum of the initial charge starts to wane. The first blood goes to Atarka but the Silumgar forces are nothing but endless. With every death, there would be one more potential warrior to be raised. For every second that has passed, their number grows instead of dwindles. Unless their necromancers are slain, their number could be bolstered all the time. And with those damned necromancers at the backline, it would be hard for Jon to cut through their number before facing the dragon regent. If nothing is done, it will result in a stalemate at best and Atarka clan is pushed back at worse.
Deathbringer Regent swoops down trying to rectify its problem but got intercept with a Foe-razer regent of the Atarka clan. The two regent dragons don't do battle for long since Atarka had decreed that the battle is for Jon and Jon alone.
*HOWL* Jon let out an earth-shattering howl. It is a signal for self-proclaimed elder brother. The thick snow bursts open as Atarka's shamans spring their trap. The sudden Windstorm kicks up snow to completely blocks out their enemy vision, preventing them from seeing anything beyond their arms reach. It is also true for Atarka clan, but every single one of them is used to fight in a snowstorm. In this situation, they hold all the advantages. Just like an old saying since the Temur days.
One hand can't hit what one eye can't see.
With their peripheral vision compromised, the Silumgar's ground force is a sitting duck and their dragons are inefficient since they couldn't see what is on the ground. They cannot even attack the ground randomly, not when Atarka broodling is contending the sky with them. Atarka clan, on the other hand, has another surprise.
A loud battle cry could be heard from the flank of Silumgar's force. From the other three directions, Surrak and other hunters rush out from their hiding. Catching their enemy by surprise, the hunt caller's force cut down all their opposition, which contains the majority of the Silumgar's necromancer. When the snowstorm fade, the invader's ground force has been completely collapsed.
Jon can see that his brother is smiling so wide it could spill his face in half. He has to give it to Surrak. The man knows how to ambush. What or who are they ambushing made no difference if Surrak is the one who handles it. All Jon needs to do is to follow the plan.
…
A cheer rings across the valley as the snowstorm fades. The opposition is cleared, and all their little Snow has to do is kill a regent. If he is anyone else, it would be crazy and suicidal. But this is Jon Snow they are talking about. A boy of twelve winters old that exceeds their expectations time and time again. A boy who can hunt an entire mammoth heard alone. A boy with dragon blood and scion of Atarka herself. If he can't do it, no one could. Besides, it Atarka's command. They can either follow it to a letter or become her food.
But then a sky cracks open with a lightning storm and a sound of thundering hoofs of a Kolaghan's riders charging throws all their plan into chaos.
*ROAR*
Leading the charge is a Thunderbreak regent. The red dragon with four feathery wings cuts through the sky at a blitzing speed. And what that follows it is a stampede of riders on horseback that can make Dothraki looks like a slow child riding a pony. They appear on the horizon and soon their arrows will blot out the sky. They will cut through snow like a, well, a hot blade through the snow. Their speed is unmatched on any land. If collide, nothing will withstand their charge.
"Retreat!" Surrak bellows a command. "Retreat to the high ground!"
This going to be a long day. The battle will be hard-fought. Many more will die.
…
The war council is called as soon as all the major figure of Atarka clan is regrouped. They don't have much time. Kolaghan's army will not wait for them to be ready. They need a plan and they need it now.
"Anyone has any plan better than counter-charge them?" Asked Surrak. As a Hunt Caller, his normal job is to ensure there is food for Atarka, as well as, conducting a raid on other clans. He is well versed in being an attacker. Which also means he knows nothing about being a defender.
"Jon?" Asked Sakta, the Wide Whisper. She is barely older than Jon and even more attunes to the elements than him. She usually serves as a chief scout and should have seen the Kolaghan clan coming had she didn't focus on summoning a snowstorm. She is his teacher, friend, and sister. As the clan sees themselves as one big family, the latter position doesn't mean much. There are each other favorite, though. The others are weird.
There is once a rumor among the clan about matching two of them together to 'breed an ultimate warrior'. An action that appalled them both and they proceed to beat up anyone that tries to mention it.
Adults are grossed.
"Are you calling his name? or are you suggesting that he is the solution?" Another female voice catches them off guard. Jon knows this one well.
"Mother!" Jon stands up and runs over to hug her. Even when everyone deems him an accomplished warrior, he is still twelve. Sometimes he still acts like a child.
"Where have you been, Arlinn?" asked one of the clan elder.
"Away." Arlinn answered with a smirk. "Do you want a better plan or not? Time is not a currency we have plenty of." She berates.
"Well. Let's hear it." Sakta joins in. "What's the plan?" She looks right into Arlinn's eyes without any sign of fear.
Arlinn seems impressed. The girl is fierce. She turns away from the girl and faces the council. "Facing Kolaghan clan on level ground is suicide. If even we held a high ground, we will be punched full of holes by their arrows. Let's bury them." Said Arlinn with a smirk. "I want to see how fast they can be when they stuck under thick snow."
Everyone in the clan grasp as they hear a farfetched idea. "Avalanche! Right." Sakta eyes lit up. "Give me some time to prepare, and I will give you an avalanche worthy of legends."
"See that you do, Sakta. Remember to make sure it doesn't kill us." Jokily commands Surrak. Everyone laughs at his comment.
That's one of the things Jon likes about this family. Even in the face of death, the Atarka can still laugh. His Westerosi kin would probably think they are mad. Well, they might be. But then again, Westeros doesn't have danger everywhere like Tarkir, which make lives there seems … boring.
Arlinn smiles "Well, prepare yourself little pup. You will likely have to fight two regent dragons."
Well. Shit.
Jon sees that everyone's face drops right after his mother mentioned it. Somehow, Sakta seems to take it worse than others. Jon is oblivious about it, but Arlinn notices it at the first moment.
"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Jon grins. "What are we waiting for?"
Cheers erupt from the hall. Two years was long enough for Jon to become of Atarka true and true.
Unbeknown to Jon, Arlinn taps Saktas's shoulder. She then speaks loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Don't worry about it. Jon will survive. Even if he cannot win, he can always find a way to return home." Arlinn sure to shift her accent slightly to that of Innistrad. It is a signal for Jon and Jon alone.
If you cannot win, planeswalk away.
…
Within minutes Kolaghan's rider speed across the battlefield, cutting down any Silumgar's survivors that are in their way. They can see Atarka rabbles assemble whatever they could on high ground. Fools. They try to reduce the effect of the charges but leave themselves open to an arrow storm. It's too easy.
Too easy to be true, in fact. The very ground they ride on quakes, but it doesn't matter. Their horses are well trained, and they would not falter by such a cheap tactic of a shaman. A mere child play will not even slow them down. Their arrows are notched. Their bows are drawn back.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" They hear multiple screams from the mountain. Whatever tactic the Atarka have, they would not falter. They are Kolaghan clan. They strike with a speed of lightning. They bring thunder. They would not be stopped by a stupid trick.
Oh, how wrong could they be. The screams overturn the mountain itself. Snow dislodge from the mountain peak and the ground quakes as if it is shattering apart. A seismic shift of this scale is unheard of. No one, no matter how powerful they are, should be able to bring down the mountain and split the earth.
They are correct. No one, alone, has that power. But all of the shamans of Atarka clan, include the hidden ones, combines can. And they did.
Before the Kolaghan's invader realize what happened, it is too late. An avalanche is already coming down on them. Faster than any horse and with a fury of the land itself, there is nothing they could do but brace the impact head-on.
Then the snow melts into water and then into steam, showing molten lava underneath. To add insult to the injury, the entirety of Atarka clan that currently present perform a volcanic rush into their immobilized front. Their non-existent defense collapse when lava collides with their battle line. Whoever unlucky enough to survive from cooling lava got stuck just long enough for Atarka's warriors to finish the job.
What they first thought was an easy battle becomes an instant rout. There and then, the battle on the ground is finished.
…
As the battle on the ground rages on, Three dragon broods battle for dominance of the sky. The air above erupts in poisonous smokes, crackling lightning bolts, and blazing fires. Oblivious to those on the ground, their fight rages on even after the other is concluded.
*ROAR*
Jon bellows with all his lungs. He calls forth a challenge to both regents. The sky tears apart, as other dragons dart away. The challenge could not be denied. No true dragon would dare do it. Atarka's Foe-razer regent landed behind him. It will not join the fight, as per Atarka's command. The other two regents descend with rage and fury. How couldn't they? An insignificant insect dares to challenge them in their own tongue. The ground erupts with toxic sludges and searing bolts. The battle is about to begin.
Jon stands ready. His blood is pumping hard and his wolf spirit howl for a fight to remember. Jon taps into all the source available to him. He calls all the power the wolf spirt could grant him. He channels all the mana he could grasp from both mountains and forests. He even seeks out the power that lies within his blood. He knows that he needs to be at his peak and beyond, for one slight mistake means a horrible death by corrosive poison and overwhelming electrocution.
Jon knows that his enemy will never fight as one. The best chance he could have is for them to obstruct each other. It is easier said than done, though. The regent dragon is cannot be easily tricked. They have taken an offense by his challenge and they will not stop before he dies a terrible death. Yet, he knows he could force them to attack each other if he carefully positions himself. He would need speed faster than he could ever be and awareness that beyond anything he used to.
Jon needs to be better. He needs to be … a dragon. Whatever metaphorical or a figure of speech by Atarka, the blood in his vein is that of a dragon. If being a dragon is the way to victory, then he must. And Atarka's dragon doesn't know retreat. They don't know defeat, only victory or death.
Jon calls forth the power he learned from the clan's hidden shaman. A skill that has been ban and is long thought lost. In his mind, he recalls the memory of a Temur clan passed from one hidden shaman to another, from one generation to another. He summons Temur Rumemark, a manifestation of the ferocious power that the clan represents. Green aura forms around each of his arms in the shape of a bladed claw. He will need it to breach a dragonhide.
Jon abandons his spear. He would not need it, for it will not even scratch the scale of his foes. He cannot afford to be on the defensive, so he rushes the Thunderbreak Regent. He dodges the lightning breath and for it left leg. He knows that the Deathbringer Regent is behind him. He is counting on it. That's why he tries to get as close as the Kolaghan's dragon as possible. To him, acidic poison is far more dangerous than lightning, and a relatively slower serpentine dragon is far less dangerous foe to fight.
If he could use one of them to harm another, his work would be much lighter.
Jon concentrates for another spell as he dodges a giant claw aiming for his head. The dragon is fast, but he is fast and small. He let go of all his rage and put it into another forbidden spell, Temur Battle Rage. With it, his speed is doubled as red flames burn on his manifested claws. He spins to dodge another incoming attack and lunges at Kolaghan's regent. His claws tear through its defense with each. First blood goes to Jon Snow.
Even though he gains the first blood, the damage that he causes is minuscule. At worst, it is a light wound in a fight between dragon. An impressive feat for a man, but that is all it is. The thunderbreak regent is annoyed and tries to attack him, but Jon is faster and dodges all of it. All the while the deathbringer regent is waiting for either Jon to slip up and die or another dragon to give him enough opening to go for a kill.
After taking hit after hit, the red dragon decides that it has enough. With a thundering roar, it let out a burst of power, discharging all the electricity it can muster in the form of a blast. The blast throws Jon off and he lands on the ground. Hard.
Unbeknown to Jon, Sakta's heart shrinks at the scene. She knows it would take much more than that to put him down, but a sight of him getting hurt makes her uncomfortable, unlike anything she felt before. Even though she doesn't want to admit it, Jon is her best disciple. He was her only disciple since others couldn't stomach the harsh regiment, she put them on. There is also another feeling that she is unfamiliar with and does not understand that she buries it deep under her stern posture.
And of course, Arlinn notices this.
Out of the cracked ground, Jon raises up undamaged. The blast caught him off guard, but he survived worse during practicing/sparing shamanism with Sakta. The girl is an exceptional shaman, but she is a bad teacher and worse sister. Her motto was 'Don't cry and try harder you little bitch!'
Meanwhile, the deathbringer regent waits for an opportunity to strike. The thundering discharge from his foe was one of them. It slithers as the poisonous breath starts to form in its mouth. As the other two are distracted, the black dragon rushes in and unleashes it breath on them both. The red dragon dashes back to avoid the fog while unleashing a breath of its own.
Jon, on the other hand, is trapped between to deadly breathes. It engulfs him whole and obscures all the visions from both inside out and outside in. Silent fells on the valley as no one dares to utter a single sound.
Shit.
…
A few months ago.
Jon learns fast. Very fast. Faster than any man in the clan history. Every knowledge that they throw at him, he mastered it in days. It takes years for anyone to try to access the power of the land, but Jon did it on his first try. Even a complicated concept of using the very nature's power to protect one body and increase one strength, which takes him years to grasp, Jon learned it in weeks. He even learns some secret art of controlling the elements from the clan's shaman in months, when it took other decades to even start to comprehend its sheer complexity.
If that is not a sign for greatness, Surrak doesn't know what is.
"I won't lie to you, Jon. Every single man and woman who stood their ground, everyone who had fought a regent has died. But where they failed, you will succeed." Said Surrak.
"Why?" Jon snaps his head back and raises his eyebrows. He is contemplating how to mix the power he learns with his own innate ability. 'Wolf spirit', he and Arlinn called it.
"I've seen a regent melt through solid rock. Men have emptied their quiver and hit nothing but air. Yet, their strength and speed are still based on their own physical capabilities. Because of that, they will never be as strong or as fast as you can be." Surrak brings out two cups of liquor. He gives one to Jon and saves one for himself.
"What are you trying to tell me, that I can dodge their breaths?" Jon takes a swig of the drink. He tries to hide it, but the burn caused his face to redden.
Surrak laughs at his little brother. Both to his naivety and his low tolerance to alcohol. "I'm telling you that when you are ready, you won't have to."
Yes, dear reader. Blue pill or red pill?
…
In the valley where the battle is taking place, the wind blows harder and harder. The mixture between a poisonous fog and a lightning cloud is dissipating, revealing a boy of age twelve alive, whole, and unspoiled. The winds separate Jon from all the danger that surrounds him. This is not a miracle. This is one of the most sacred technique that Sakta ever beat into him.
He who can control the Winds of Qal Sisma cannot be harmed as long as the wind blows.
Jon knows he cannot be killed by these two regent dragons, but he cannot kill them either. He needs more power. Much more than what he currents has access to. The wolf spirit and dragon blood can only keep him from falling short. The mana he can tap from mountains and forests can only keep him on par with them. He needs more power.
So, he searches and searches as he keeps the wind barrier up. Breathe and claws fall short upon its walls. He could keep this up but not indefinitely. He needs a solution and he needs it fast.
And he found it in the Swamplands of Sliumgar's territory.
And from that moment forward, Tarkir had never been the same.
…
For thousands of years, the spirit dragon has been sleeping. He was beaten by his own twin brother. He was saved by a man that has never been born. And now, he is awakened by the blood of his kin.
His kin. One that he long thought dead has his power reawaken once more.
Ugin gathers whether little strength he has just to utter one name.
"Vaevictis Asmadi"
…
Custom Card of the Chapter
Card Name: Jon, The Eldest Reborn
Mana Cost: 4BRG
Types: Legendary Planeswalker – Jon
Card Text:
+2 Until end of turn, Jon, The Eldest Reborn becomes a 3/2 Human Werewolf Warrior creature with doublestrike and trample that's still a planeswalker. Transform all Human Werewolf you control
-3 Until end of turn, Jon, The Eldest Reborn becomes a 4/4 Elder Dragon creature with flying that's still a planeswalker. Dragons you control get +2/+2 and trample until end of turn.
-7 You get an emblem with "Whenever your creature attacks, for each player, choose target permanent that player controls. Those players sacrifice those permanents. Each player who sacrificed a permanent this way reveals the top card of their library, then puts it onto the battlefield if it's a permanent card."
Loyalty: 4
Rarity: Mythic Rare
