Armageddon

Armageddon is a well trained member of her Clan’s militia. She’s fierce, energetic, and a bit overbearing and aggressive, but her heart is in the right place! She fancies herself as a heroine who protects the innocent and makes Sornieth a better place.



The First Outpost:

More than any other breed, Banescales answered Inferno’s plea for aid. Berry of the Aer Clan, Scoria and Empyreal of the Swarm, Fugue of the Clan of Wandering Souls, and Armageddon of Clan of the Howling Mesa on the way. Banescales, every one.

———

Saranus climbed to his feet and stared at the gathered dragons. “The majority of you will patrol the surrounding land for signs of the Sisters. The Strategy Board has split you into two groups--the Smokehorn and the Fireclaw. One patrol will remain at the First Outpost while the other gathers information.

“The Smokehorn will be led by Pathfinder. Windbreaker of the Windblade clan will be the Smokehorn’s mage, and Scoria and Empyreal of the Swarm shall constitute its fighting body.

“The Fireclaw will be led by Izarre, who will also act as the Fireclaw’s mage. Qatal of the Clan of the Guarding Ones, Armageddon of the Clan of the Howling Mesa, and Stórmerki of Valhall shall constitute its fighting body.

“In addition,” Saranus continued, “Voltage the Knight-Errant shall accompany the Smokehorn on their missions whenever it is convenient for him to do so. Inferno the General shall similarly accompany the Fireclaw.”

———

“So we watched their camp,” Stórmerki said. “It was pretty boring, but--”

“--but also kind of eerie,” Armageddon broke in. She and Stórmerki got along famously, her being the one dragon he would tolerate being interrupted by, and him being the one dragon to whom she could relate her dreams of being a hero. “They’re just dragons, you know?”

“Don’t,” Qatal said. She had been sewing a patch onto her bandana, and set down her needle. “Do not call our enemies ‘dragons.’ They slaughtered three members of the First Outpost.”

“I didn’t mean…” Armageddon hesitated. “I didn’t mean to make them sympathetic. I just meant that it was weird watching them for so long.”

Stórmerki clicked his tongue. “It was strange. They were just sitting around and talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Fog waved at him dismissively. “Get to the good part. Why were you guys questioned for so long?”

“Well,” Armageddon began, her eyes flashing. “A Wildclaw approached their camp. And I started to get up, because I thought the Sisters were going to devour them,” Stórmerki nodded solemnly. “But Izarre pulled me back down. And I was thinking, am I going to watch a dragon die in front of my eyes? But Izarre looked angry, and a little scared, so I didn’t say anything.”

Stórmerki, unable to contain himself, said, “The Wildclaw wasn’t a random traveler--they greeted the Sisters!”

Fog snorted. “Really? That’s what got you guys three hours with the Board? That’s why Izarre is still there?”

“It means that the Sisters aren’t just random reavers,” Berry said. She sat up, curled her tail around Fog. “It means they have support. A group of dragons beyond them.”

Armageddon nodded rapidly.

“Don’t turn this into a story,” Qatal said. She glared at Armageddon and Stórmerki. “This is serious. The Sisters have made contact with a dragon whose identity is unknown. All we know is that they’re a Wildclaw, and they have white-ish coloration. They could be anyone.”

“No one got a good look at them?” Pathfinder asked. The dragons turned to look at him. “I mean, how did that happen?”

“You weren’t there,” Stórmerki snapped. The feathers along his neck rose in agitation. “We couldn’t exactly get closer, could we?”

Pathfinder sighed. He should be alone right now, under the stars, or convincing Izarre of the health benefits of smolderpetal tea, not pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with these strangers.

But Stórmerki was right. He shouldn’t pick fights.

———

“You’re leading the Banescales to their deaths,” Fog said. The young Spiral’s tail twined around Berry’s. “You’ll be shot out of the sky.”

“Death should not concern you,” was all Inferno said to Fog.

“My lieutenants,” she continued (a shiver skittered along the tips of Pathfinder’s wings as he realized she was addressing him), “drive your troops. Run them as fast as you can. If someone falls, leave them behind.”

The gathered troops were silent in the face of Inferno’s cold-bloodedness.

“Banescales. Let’s take the sky.”

———

Another body crashed from the sky, but this time Pathfinder didn’t whirl around to double-check that it was indeed Berry--Windbreaker urged him on. He was below the Spiral now, and she screamed incantations that were violent in his ears. She glanced down just as Windbreaker exploded into the air. Her wings ate up the distance, and Armageddon, screeching, descended from above. The Spiral blasted a whirl of light at Armageddon and then whipped away, impossibly fast.

———

The battlefield was eerily quiet, but for the strong assertions of Stórmerki to Armageddon, who lay crumpled on the ground, breathing shallowly.

When he saw her fall, he disobeyed the General and stopped. The words of the Valhallan healer Saga blinkered in his mind, disjointed and unclear, but he could see clearly that her left leg was broken, and the wound on her neck would be fatal if he didn’t act quickly. He ripped off a strip of cloth and pressed it to the gash, praying to his old gods and the Eleven--Please let her live. Please.

“You saved her life,” Qatal commented as she made her rounds. With Pathfinder and Izarre absent, she took up the mantle of leader, being the senior warrior. “You’re a hero.”

———

Those remaining on the field limped home hours after the battle, once Armageddon had stabilized. She remained in critical condition throughout the return home, but the doggedness of the Wildclaw Stórmerki ensured her a shot at living. The Strategy Board came to the conclusion that the First Outpost didn’t have the resources to nurse the wounded dragons; they would be sent home as soon as they could find dragons who were willing to help them back.

Three days later, Pathfinder went to a nearby town and hired travelling companions for the wounded dragons. He was lucky to discover that the doctors the First Outpost occasionally hired on, the sisters Rivendell and Arda, were already bound for the Abiding Boneyard. They accepted only a paltry payment and agreed to treat Armageddon’s wound along the way.

———

In her time at the First Outpost, Armageddon fought under Izarre the Shade-killer in the Fireclaw, where she became known for her fierce urgency in completing their mission. She became swift friends with Stórmerki Sanctuary of Valhall, who saved her life on the battlefield.

Armageddon arrived home with the help of the Veilspun sisters Rivendell and Arda, who explained that they were in the area to study advanced diseases and cures for such. They delivered Armageddon's wages, the remainder of their provisions for the journey, and a note from Trinka that simply reads: "Armageddon was mortally wounded in combat. She was saved by Stórmerki of Valhall. We regret losing such a fine warrior. May she fly again soon."


—————————


The sun beating down on a hot summer day, the search for a shady place. Sitting beside the flickering flames of campfire, hudled for warmth near a fireplace or stove. Spicy peppers, far too hot, sweating and tearful, yet relishing the delicious pain. Heat, sometimes cherished, sometimes evaded, always with a mind of its own.

By drakota77749







By TheAlmightySei