Arden Terraward & Crew in: Breathdown with a Dragon

(Short story exploring a non-canon event within the world and timeline of the show "The Legend of Vox Machina", all rights reserved. Arden Terraward is property of Stefano Ronchi, owner of StarCake Inc., all rights reserved.)

Flames. Death. Destruction everywhere.

How am I still alive? Ah, yes: one of the "lucky" ones, fetching whatever treasures we may scavenge from this ruined hellhole, least these nightmarish dragons destroy even us.

There's no escape, for they just hunt us down -I've seen them!

There's no survival, for they shall eat us when we fail -I've seen it!

So, why bother? For that elusive glimmer of hope, I guess -that somehow, we will endure long enough to be saved. Foolish, true, but why speed along the eternal sleep?

I guess I'm lucky: I know the city -well, what used to be it- pretty well, where the stores were, what's worth stealing...who knew that crime and imprisonment would lead to my salvation? Or, I guess my living hell..

Anyway, time to see if that fancy magic shop has anything left to plunder...hm, mostly submerged in lava, brilliant...oho, what's this? Why isn't it melting away? And, still cool to the touch, this is definitely magic...some little statuette of sort, let's have a proper look at it...

Bbbzzztt "Activation initiated. Analysing..."

@#*te, what the heck's going on?

"Crisis detected. Does holder wish for intervention?"

Wha...what do you mean? Is it talking in my head??

"Do you wish for help?"

What, you can...you can save me from those dragons?!?

"Unknown: please provide access to your mind, for analysis."

Hu, this is something alright...well, what do I have to lose? Yea, sure.

Bzzzbbbzzzztttt "Analysis complete. Threat level: 9. Debt level: sufficient. Would you like to be saved?"

Yes...yes please! Please save me!!

"Confirmation received. Please standby at a safe location for assistance, your allocated agent will come seek you out."

What...hey, what the heck was that? Why isn't it doing anything else? Tsk, stupid-

"WHAT WAS THAT BURST OF MAGIC I FELT, WORM?"

O-oh god i-it was nothing I swear I j-just...

***

"Beacon X1569 analysis received. Calculating...ideal agent determined, contacting..."

"Captain."

......

"Captain, please wake up, a beacon has been activated."

...zmwa...goaway.

"Initiating shock procedure in 3, 2-"

ALRIGHT alright I'm awake! Yawn...status?

"Beacon activated, you've been deemed as the ideal agent."

Woopdie-doo. Give me the data.

"....."

Sorry, you're right, please give me the data.

"Transferring..."

Hmm...oh, ho-ho! I know this universe, super high magic! And dragons, hm? Tasty, and good thing I'm full of juice...ok, lemme brief the crew, prep up, set the Recorder, then off we go!

***

The little beacon started it's glowing countdown, vibrating and hovering with the build up of energy, until it projected the trans-dimensional portal atop the nearest, safe surface: out of the swirling vomit of colour there stepped a figure, then the portal was gone, and the beacon rested to the ground, blissfully inert.

The figure was humanoid, for sure, looking all around with keen interest: a male, it would seem, and a human one at that, with fairly fair skin, and the rough yet practical clothing of an adventurer -comfortable trousers, sturdy shoes, what could be a leather armour...you know, the usual fair.

Tall -yet not too much; perhaps buff -yet not overly; apart from a thick lion's mane of flame-red hair (with nary a hint of a beard), and eyes the grey of a light stormcloud, you'd except more from someone who just crossed the barriers between universes.

"SO, WHAT DID THE LITTLE TRINKET BRING ME, HM?"

Out of the surrounding ruins of what one time must have been a city, yet now looked more like a devil's volcanic fantasy mixed with a pirate lord's drooling dream of gold and treasure, boomed a voice of pure malice, soon to be replaced by the booming of powerful wings, and the descent of a gigantic red dragon to perch atop the biggest mountain of booty.

What a magnificently terrifying specimen that beast was! Every inch of its crimson, rippling body radiated power, with two fiery infernos for eyes, matched by two wickedly twisted horns -not to mention a colossal ruby...stuck in its chest? Melted within its being? Whatever its nature, it was also damn impressive.

The puny human figure looked up at its looming death, and promptly kneeled before it, head bowed: "Arden Terraward I be, oh mighty dragon," it said in a voice with nary a quiver of fear, "summoned by a beacon, to bear assitance to someone in their direst hour. And, may I ask, whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Oh, did the beast laugh at the insect's temerity, to be even addressing it! And, as it made merry, three other mighty dragons, of colours white, green and black, aligted onto the surrounding scenery, summoned by the unusual cacophony of joy, a stark contrast to the usual screams of their victims.

"I AM THORDAK, LEADER OF THE CHROMA CONCLAVE, RIGHTFUL HEIR OF TAL'DOREI BY RULE OF MIGHT, AND SOON OF THE WHOLE WORLD. IF THAT TRINKET BROUGHT YOU HERE, THEN KNOW THAT WHO WIELDED IT, IS NO MORE."

Arden got up from his prostation and passed a frustrated hand through his wild hair: "Yea, I was afraid of that. May they rest in peace."

He prayed, briefly for that lost soul, before clapping energetically: "Still, a deal is a deal: I was brought here to save someone, and I see a lot of something up for saving, so...I know, this is going to sound crazy, but...any chance you might renounce on your claim, take this lovely horde and leave?"

A moment of stunned silence was followed by a thunderstorm of laughter by the scaly congregation, which Arden wheatered with wincing patience.

"THORDAK, THIS ONE AMUSES US! CAN WE KEEP IT AS A JESTER?" The black dragon hissed once the gales of mirth subsided.

"AN AMUSING PROSPECT, UMBRASYL. WHAT SAY YOU, LITTLE THING?"

"Tempting, tempting...but, I have a better idea:" said Arden as he defiantly pointed at the dragon, "Thordak, I challenge thee to a Breathdown!"

"A...BREATHDOWN?" The challenged replied, with a puzzled tilt of its many-fanged maw, "AMUSING AND DERANGED: THAT IS A RITE ONLY DRAGONS CAN PARTAKE IN!"

"Oh, is that so?" Came the mocking retort, "What is it, Thordak, not confident of taking on a non-dragon? Have your aeons of existence made you scared of an honourable pact?"

With those barbs, the mood fouled to an icy degree, which was quite an achievement for such a lava engorged habitat: "I THINK I'LL JUST SQUASH YOU NOW-"

"I CHALLENGED YOU," Arden's unnaturally amplified voice cut in, "AND I EXPECT A FORMAL RESPONSE!" He emphasised the point with a stomp of a foot, sending an earth-cracking shockwave through the surroundings, which lead to Thordak's beautiful mound of gold sinking into a newly formed pool of incandescence. Oh dear.

"I ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE." Thordak finally announced once he'd settled onto another glittering pile.

"Brilliant!" Came the enthusiastic response, "As the challenger, I get to decide the grounds...hmm, too much collateral around here...what about the plain at the base of this place? Yea, let's go for that, see you there!" With a wink and a salute, Arden was gone -well, after lifting off and swiftly flying towards the appointed area.

Once more, silence and the occasional bubbling of molten rock reigned in the ruined plaza.

"I DO NOT LIKE THIS, THORDAK, IT SMELLS LIKE A TRAP." Said the green one.

"FRET NOT RAISHAN, FOR THAT IS WHY YOU WILL ALL OBSERVE THIS CHARADE, JUST AS I WILL RESPOND TO THIS STRANGE THING'S REQUEST."

***

So, the action shifted to an arid plain lit by the glow of the dominating city cum volcano, with Arden facing Thordak from a good fifty or so metres away, the other great lizards observing proceedings from a safe distance.

"AS THE CHALLENGED, IT IS MY RIGHT TO BREATHE FIRST, WHILE THOU WILL NOT FLINCH AN INCH." Thordak echoed across the empty divide.

Arden grinned and assumed a pose of readiness.

Thusly did the great beast brace itself and raise its powerful head to take a deep breath, spreading its wings wide: and as its frame puffed up, from the tip of its neck to bowels of its stomach did two opposite rows of ignitions progressively erupt, like the wakening of a truly fearsom engine.

Then, it lowered its head, aimed it at Arden, and breathed.

What a breath that was! Not just some puny fireball, but a stream -no, a jet of primal fire! And as it consumed its target, Thordak dug in its mighty claws, and with a mighty strain intensified the jet, turning the blast into a super-heated, laser-like column of oblivion.

The breathtaking display went on for far too long and reached far in the distance across the ocean's wides, boiling and tumulting them as it passed.

And what of poor Arden in all of this? For a while, he faired fairly well: levitating off the ground in a cross-legged yoga meditating pose complete with closed eyes and encased in a force bubble, the jet streamed pass him harmlessly.

Yet as the breath intensified and protracted, more and more cracks criss-crossed the bubble while Arden scrunched his forehead with sweaty strain, until one crack broke into a small hole, and the blue, fiery doom poured in -almost poured, that is, for Arden shot an arm out to stopper it, and grimaced in great pain as the arm was dissolved to the shoulder!

Yet, it did it's job, buying him enough time to magically patch up the hole, and just like that, the jet stopped, and Arden fell to the ground on one knee, his bubble shattering like so much cheap crystal all around him.

He gulped in strained breaths for a while, before straightening himself, and upon closing his eyes and muttering some words, regrowing his absentee arm -which, was the gross affair, a bloody mass bursting from his charred stump and quickly -and painfully- growing into a proper arm.

"That was incredible Thordak!" Shouted Arden to his opponent, who did not seem best pleased to see him still standing, "Now it's my turn! With so much magic about, think I'll go for the Gates!"

Deep breath in, feet braced apart, hands cupped at his core: through a long exhale, his hands trace mystical patterns in front of him, patterns that blossom into a gently glowing symbol as large as him, hovering close to the ground just behind and to his right. Then, rinse and repeat, twelve times, until an arc of the shimmering symbols is fanned behind him, like a proud and giant peacock's tail.

"Right, here comes the hard part." He places both palms forward, seeming to push against an invisible wall, then woosh, his hair catches fire! Or, rather, it becomes a flame, an ondulating blue flame, as his eyes become similarly lit by his soul's inner fire -let's call it soulfire for convenience.

Then, the symbols shine, so bright! And from them, tendrils of lazy light elongate towards Arden's straining palms, coaleshing into a tiny speck. The little baby sphere grows, agonizingly slowly, and Arden trembles with the strain of it all, his soulfire burning fiercely for all it's worth: then, he begins to bleed. From his eyes, from his ears, you name it -yet, the little light is but a thumb's breadth.

Then, his skin begins to rupture and tear, until an ear just bursts, blood squirting with abandon from its vacated premises -yet, the light is but the size of his fist.

Then, an arm just bursts in a disgusting rending of sinews, an eye pops wetly, and his soulfire sputters out, the symbols dim and faint away, and with an almighty scream what is left of Arden heaves forward the light, now the size of his head, before collapsing into a smoking heap.

The little light drifts gently and steadily on its own breeze towards the massive Thordak, who braces his ruby-esque chest for impact: 3, 2, 1...

The sound is of a thousand thunders; the shockwave forces the observing dragons to hold tightly to their perches as a savage wind whips into life. In the middle of it all, Thordak strains against the little light, as a tornado of destructive energy rages around him, as the little light shines and boils and obliterates like an angered sun against the thing that is stopping its path, as -and suddenly, it all stops, the light is gone, and Thordak slumps to the ground.

In time, he rises again, a single, large crack emanating from his chest-ruby, and the breathing of someone who has done quite the workout -but, he is risen.

As for Arden...why, so is he! Just finishing regenerating the last of his missing bodily parts as their gazes meet: a spit of a globule of blood, a nod, and it's time to go again.

Which is to say that this happens again and again: each time, the combatants blast each other...but always more warily than before.

Thordak's body-engine ignition become less and less pervasive, his breath taking longer and longer to become that fearsome blue jet; Arden manages to summon less and less symbols each time, the little light becoming smaller and smaller whenever it is sent on its destructive collision.

By the end of it, they're both in a sorry state: Thordak's ruby is a mess of cracks, chunks missing and blood spurting through them with each laboured heartbeat, the mighty beast panting and trembling on the spot, head and wings drooping with effort.

Arden is similarly swimming on his feet with exhaustion, an arm and an eye missing despite his regenerative efforts, hacking out blood after every other rattling breath.

Yet, it is now Arden's turn, and once more he goes to summon the Gates...yet, cannot muster the strength for even one symbol.

"Ok...let's try something a bit more basic then."

He falls to his knees, presses his remaining hand to the ground, summons what strength remains (not even enough for a spark of soulfire), and plays his last card.

Moments later, the ground rumbles and shakes, until the space between the duelists rises and shapes into a titanic creature of rock which easily dwarves even Thordak.

In its raised hand, a sword of ever so sharp metal forms, the blade easily the size of even Thordak; the colossus grabs the mighty blade in both hands, points it downwards, and thrusts towards its target in a shattering, crashing cacophony as it crumbles apart from the impact!

The dust settles...but Thordak survives! And Arden laughs and laughs maniacally at the revelation: "Oh, mighty Thordak...you dodged! You flinched!"

Indeed, the dragon lives not through brawn, but through a dash that avoided its doom: "And to think, that such a weak strike would be your undoing! I guess size does count, to make a dragon fear death!" A suddenly much more chipper Arden declares, having just injested...something, and his strengths returning somewhat to let him point a newly renewed finger at the accused wyrm as he approaches it, "You know the rules! No outside help, no dodging the exchanges until death stops the Breathdown! I win, you lose, now begone!" Arden stops triumphantly a few paces from the now not so bloodied creature.

For as he strode forth, the remaining dragons came to soccur their leader, lending their prodigious magic to heal most of its wounds, so that Thordak once more stands proud and mostly strong: "DRAGONS DO NOT YELD TO INFERIOUR SPECIES, NO MATTER THEIR MIGHT." And it snapped down its tremendous maw to finish things, only to be met by gales of laughter as Arden dissipates in the breeze.

"How fitting, for the cowardly lizard to renege on a Breathdown!" Arden mocks as the dragons force his ethereal form to briefly materialise, before it eludes their questing fangs and claws, "But that won't do, that won't do at all! I think someone needs to come and take care of this stain on dragon honour, hm?"

Arden starts to loudly proclame a name, a long and complex one, ending in: "Tiamat".

The sky darkens above, and the dragons ever more frantically search for the pesky creature, which continues to spell out four other names, all ending with Tiamat -and each time, the sky becomes more bruised, more swollen, more...foreboding.

At the fifth and final name, the dragons almost have him, trapped in a force cage that resists his phasing, but as they prepare to obliterate him with a combined blast of breaths, Arden manages to scream the final Tiamat.

Arden's cage shatters and all are flattened to the ground by the pressure of an emerging presence; yet the sky doesn't birth forth something, but rather morphs, changes into that presence, so vast it is that it must occupy it all, as far as the eye can see: Tiamat, the Dragon God, is here.

"You know why I called to you, oh endless Tiamat!" Arden screams into the oppressive wind as he struggles upright, "You've seen the Breathdown. The sacred pact is broken!"

Time passes, as the turbulent sky-shaped dragon, two stars for eyes, gazes inscrutinably at its prostrated subjects and the little man who summoned it.

"NO." The thought reverberates through the mind of all those present, "BEARER, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME. YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE CALLED. YOU ARE WEAKENED. YOU ARE NOW MINE."

The bowed dragons dare look up at the human, eyes full of malice, yet Arden's eyes are similarly full of a steely malice: "That won't do. That will not do at all."

And, at the command of an outstretched arm, another of those colour-swirly portals appears, and into it a hand goes, to fish out a weapon.

What a weapon it was! If a staff had gained superpowers, this would be it: its two extremeties where large, wide and wickedly sharp blades shaped as flames, which met the grip in the middle -and even that, was a curious affair! A gem -no, more a shiny mineral, of shifting colour, large yet comfortable enough to provide an ergonomic grip for two swinging hands.

"Not that weak after all, I'd say."

Yet more silence charged with unbelievable tension treacled away: "NO. YOUR STRENGTH IS LACKING."

"Is it? If it means my end, I'll take you with me, Tiamat."

The now expected dramatic yet still rather intimidating pause goes on, and on, and on...until those two starry eyes shift their gaze onto Thordak, who shrinks away, as the cornered rat does before the pouncing cat: "YOU SHAME ME TWICE, CHILD. YOU BREAK THE PACT, AND THE BEARER ISN'T MINE. TIME TO DISAPPEAR."

"NO!" Roars Thordak in defiance, mustering all his strength for one last breath on Arden, his body glowing to bursting with the coalescing energy...or, just glowing from its disintegration into the breeze: the attack never comes, as the last whisps of essence that used to be Thordak, flicker and are no more.

The two inscrutable stars of Tiamat focus once more on Arden for an uncomfortable AGE as the two Lock gazes: "TILL NEXT TIME, BEARER."

Arden gives the seemingly infinite being a smiling, almost affectionate salute with his intriguing weapon, before the skies start to part, and the world is back to a more oppressive, less god-filled place.

"Well, that's that then!" Says Arden with weary cheerfullness, pointing his weapon at the nearest dragon, "I'm hoping that yourselves won't be as intractable as Thordak, and we can call it a day here?"

The dragons look at each other uncertainly, for even their long-lived minds must have been a little shattered by their god's presence, before the green one paces forward: "YES, LET US END THIS...AFFAIR." She looks hesitantly at their formerly conquered city, "WOULD YOU OBJECT TO US COLLECTING OUR HORDES, BEFORE WE LEAVE?"

"No, by all means! I'll be honest, I've always been a big fan of dragons -big fan! It's been a thrill to see you again, and so powerful -haven't had such a Breathdown, in...well, a very long time!"

One by one the dragons depart, hatred in their eyes and vengeance in their hearts, but with their tail between their paws, to claim what glittering bounty they can before retreating to scheme and plot anew.

Last is that green dragon, its gaze on the human one more of puzzlement than resentment: "EXACTLY...WHAT ARE YOU?"

Arden grins: "Ah, yes, I wasn't called Arden here. What was it again? That's it! Come, and I'll whisper it just for you." He beckons the dragon closer, and the mighty beast lowers its head hesitantly, its wariness outdone by its curiosity.

Arden gets close to those ears nearly as large as himself and whispers something; the dragon's eyes widen in shock as it recoils: "HOW-"

"Ssshhh." Arden cautions, "Our little secret."

With a wink and a blown kiss to the dragon, him and his weapon wink away in a stain of swirling colour.

***

"Wow, Boss, that was a good one, gave me quite the story there -and the fright, thought you were a goner!"

"Nah, Recorder, me? Ok, maybe it was a bit foolhardy, but c'mon...had to try and impress her!"

"Oh yea, still got the hots for her? She seemed mighty keen on claiming you!"

"Well, let's just say I wouldn't say no, although I'm not sure exactly what her plans were...but, that time is neither here nor there. Perhaps, one day..."

"Yea, her and all the other ones!"

"Hey, I'm a lover first, fighter second! Anyway, lemme go check in: you do your thing and spin a good one out of this. Till next time!"

"You got it Boss, see you next time!"

The End.

Your dragon fanboy,

Stefano Ronchi