Fists out, for all the good it would do him, he very much doubted he'd get a second shot at the goodies, which was a shame really, because he was sure he could do a lot more damage this time, in his heightened physical state. Not really knowing what to expect, he'd picked up a few things from his brief time in this fairytale world, and his albeit brief experiences told him that this attack from the nightmarish looking dragon was going to be magical. The giveaway? Rippling, dark energy rapidly converging into a ball between both hands seemed the likely clue. Unable to even begin to comprehend how to thwart such an attack, once again he peacefully accepted his fate. But once again, the universe had other ideas.
Ready to cast the exquisitely conjured mantra at his ape tormentor, the very pleased with himself dragon only heard the whistle of air being scythed out of the way from behind at the very last moment, leaving him no time to react. His first thought as the frosty blade burst through his chest was that there must be some mistake, and that he'd done something to displease the ever important Manson. After all, he'd witnessed him dispatching others that had earned his ire in very similar fashions. But on glancing over to his right, he could just make out the recently self proclaimed king furiously battling a half naked human form wrapped in what looked very much like laminium chains. As the now unfocused energy from his mantra dissipated harmlessly into the air all around him, his last thought as the life drifted out of him was,
'If not him... then who?'
"JANICE!" he screamed. Well... in his mind anyway, because there was simply no way that he'd be heard over the sound of the impacting magic, the clash of steel and the ferocity of the ensuing battle. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, and with his newly restored body ready to be tested fully, he set off at a sprint towards the dragon in the shadows, hoping to gain at least a modicum of protection.
Caked in the glow of his magical shield conjured up out of nowhere by his breaking of the alea, Peter spotted Hook sprinting, for all he was worth, away from a fierce looking dragon that had just been harpooned by a futuristic blade that almost appeared to be made of ice. Unable to make out who had thrown it, the young hockey player turned his attention back to the matter at hand. What exactly should he do? Hook looked as though he was making his way towards Yoyo, something he quite fancied, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a bit of a cop out. After all, he was protected, at least to some degree, so it would probably be prudent to try and offer his friends some help, for at least as long as he found himself in this state. Gazing across to the giant dead end, the furthest part of the lower level from him, he watched his best friend weave and bob, thrust and parry with what he now recognised to be, his, yes his... laminium dagger. It was only then that he corrected himself, remembering that his grandfather was here. Not his dagger, but his grandfather's dagger. Whirling around in an attempt to locate his long lost relative, it was then that he set eyes on her. The love of his life... JANICE! What the hell was she doing still sitting there on the floor in the middle of the magical bedlam that had now been playing out for some time? At first he thought she'd been injured, but as that occurred to him her eyes popped wide open, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. That was it! He'd made his decision, and removing her from the line of fire had suddenly become his number one priority.
Fire coursing through him, that's how it felt. Every atom, every molecule, everything felt on fire... only in a good way. He'd been ablaze many times before, and although not the very worst thing in the world, when it's a dragon intent on doing you harm it still wasn't very pleasant. On one particular occasion, the dragon in question had been so strong and so powerful, it had actually set his whole head alight, making him look like a dragon version of Marvel's Ghost Rider. He knew this because Peter and Tank had made him watch every series of Agents of Shield, pretty much their favourite television show.
So as the supercharged energy from the crisscrossing chains draped around his torso filled every muscle with life, he approached the evil villain Manson, the being he'd been tracking for months, who'd always been at least one step ahead of him. Boosted by the magic in the laminium, even his overstretched confidence knew to be wary when it came to this being. He was crafty, full of guile and Flash had a sneaking suspicion that he was overly familiar with very unusual, much coveted magic, which made him something of an oddity as an enemy. And therein, could lie the problem. Conventional enemies were, for him, much easier to dispatch. For something out of the ordinary, he knew he had to rely on all his skill, cunning and training. This, he thought, was going to be the fight of his life.
Thoughts of the dragon king's ring and just why it wouldn't work were cast aside immediately. A small, magical part of him continuously tested the enigmatic band, hoping it would wake up and serve him, but in reality he didn't hold out much hope. Watching in delight as the battle broke out on all fronts, having released his dark, deadly magic in the direction of those that had arrived out of nowhere, a sliver of concern wriggled around inside him on seeing one of the newcomers deflect it away harmlessly. Realising that it might be a bit tougher than he'd first thought to deal with this unexpected opposition, he whirled around with only one thing on his mind... TO KILL THE DRAGON MONARCH! With his father finally out of the way for good, there was absolutely no need for his nemesis to continue breathing. That would be one less powerful enemy to be concerned about. Pulling back his arm, about to release a sizzling salvo of nightmarish energy at the still prone dragon king, abruptly he was tackled rugby style around the waist (something Flash was immensely proud of, given the news he'd yet to tell Tank about his decision to join him in his sport) and crashed heavily to the floor, a barrage of punches raining down on his face before he'd even come to rest. It had, as far as he was concerned, all been going so well, and then out of nowhere... THIS! As the magically enhanced punches pummelled his face, splintering bones and drawing blood from his nose, a darkness within him fought to escape. Memories of his childhood trapped in THAT cavern in Antarctica came flooding back. The sick brutality, the way his father, Troydenn, had used and abused his mother, being bullied and ridiculed by the other dragons because of how different he was. Shame and fear outweighed the pain from the hits he was currently taking. And then finally... his MOTHER! After becoming useless to them, she was discarded by his father and all the others that had used her like a cheap whore, and died a short time later in his arms, never able to see the exotic powers he'd developed, or how he'd go on to become so powerful. On that unforgettable day, any feelings he had for others were crushed, his soul stained black and his heart disconnected from his body. As the beating continued, his attacker clearly pleased with the job he was doing, the sinister Manson opened himself to all the memories, allowed the grief, heartbreak, shame and fear to consume him. Previously it had given him strength and power beyond belief. Today was no different.
Every one of her dragon senses was being utilised to the full. It was a good job they were all supplemented by magic, because without that it would be impossible to focus on everything that was going on around her. Amelia Battlehard had fallen back on her training, just like the other King's Guards that had survived the brutal slaughter which had started when Manson had attacked out of the blue. Trying desperately hard not to focus on it, she already knew just how many good dragons she'd lost right at that very first point. Twenty-one killed in an instant. Luck had been with the rest of them, and of course in her case an unexpected helping hand. Presently, she was in the middle of the force that remained, having been unable to reach the king. Her guards and two remaining councillors had formed a circle with her at the centre, and as well as dispatching enemies as they flung themselves their way, they were currently moving ever so slowly towards the king's last known position. Unfortunately for her, it was also where the dastardly leader Manson appeared to be, which was presenting something of a problem as the fighting towards that point was heavier than anywhere else in the chamber. Dishing out orders, taking out enemies from above, and correcting any form of mistakes by the others in their line, her brain had never been so active. While knowing that the odds were heavily stacked against them, she was, however, delighted to at least be given a chance. To have died with a sword at her throat would have been a dishonour, a disgrace and something she could never have accepted, and while she mourned the others that had gone this way through no fault of her own, the knowledge of their deaths only made her more determined to rescue the king and ultimately save the domain and the rest of the planet. Much like the young lacrosse player on the other side of the chamber, winning was everything, and today she would give everything she could, including her life, to make sure that her side did just that.