[center][h2]Yalisith, He Was Called[/h2][/center] [hr] A deep exhale followed the wiping of sweat from his brow. The elven man looked over his shoulder, down into the cavern below. He was always rather captivated by how high up the climb to Yalisith's roost was. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to jump... Swallowing hard, swallowing the thought, he lowered his head as he walked into the only path forward. This was a steep upward climb and a path he'd walked before. The path was but a split in the rock, wide enough for Yalisith to soar through unhindered, and only just tall enough that the dragon's talons did not scrape the stone below him during such a flight. Like many tunnels here in the Treasure Goblet, this one was but a dead end. Squelching noises echoed on the edge of hearing from the far end of the path. Though it was dark here, for the light of the Treasured Goblet did not reach this far, the walls were illuminated by those bio-luminescent fungi and plants that the Dragon had brought in. A soft and sickly green hue illuminated the dark and the elven man walked slowly, so that his eyes could adjust, or so he told himself. Once again, he bit his lip, and turned his mind away from that path of thought. He was a mediator and he should be proud. That was what he always told himself. As the uphill climb leveled out, he finally lifted his gaze, and stared into the verdant darkness. He could see the golden scales of the dragon catching the light in an otherworldly greenish hue. The beast's massive jaws were moving as he was in the middle of a meal- that much the elf could deduce from the sounds before, yet it was always nauseous to witness- For what separated him from the desiccated pile of limbs was nothing but a thought- - one that he should not think- Fear gripped him still, despite him digging his nails into his palms against it, but he needed to speak. He had no reason to fear Yalisith, for Yalisith was kind to him, yet... - that damn thought again- [color=F5C38D]"Forgive me,"[/color] began the elf, his voice cracking from stress as the Dragon crunched down upon half a centaur, [color=F5C38D]"Ex-excuse me, can I speak with you?"[/color] With blood gushing out of his mouth, Yalisith looked over slowly then, in a voice as deep and rumbling as the stones within which they were confined, he asked calmly, [color=AA4631]"What is it, Treasured one?"[/color] [color=F5C38D]"I- I believe there's-"[/color] he coughed to try and hide his dread [color=F5C38D]"-there's a problem. Yalisith- we. We're in-"[/color] Yalisith huffed a breath which caused the elf to take a step back. He asked, [color=AA4631]"Is it the Hobgoblins again?"[/color] [color=F5C38D]"No, no but-"[/color] [color=AA4631]"They've a nasty habit of coming here- screaming about freeing the prisoners,"[/color] Yalisith rolled one massive eye, his talons digging into the stone, [color=AA4631]"But you are not prisoners! You want for nothing! Do not believe their lies, Treasure. You're valuable to me- have I not been kind to you?"[/color] Having heard it all before, the elf let out a deep sigh, because he knew there was no stopping it now- -but at least it would serve as a distraction... from... [color=AA4631]"All that I have given you- food! Glorious means to grow your own sources as well- clothing! The finest materials which you use to craft- the sharing of skills between you all and your different cultures- you've become more valuable, more treasured, as time has passed,"[/color] Yalisith growled, [color=AA4631]"AND EVEN PRODUCED [i]MORE[/i] TREASURE. Through your cultural melding and such you are unique- you have built a home here- we've built a wonderful city within which you do reside YET- those cretins- those [i]fools[/i]-"[/color] Letting out a deep sigh, the elf slowly settled down on the cobblestone floor, and knew he was in for the long haul with that particular line. The depth of depraved pride that Yalisith held for keeping them here was entirely incomprehensible to the man, but the points were solid- here, they wanted for nothing. Well, nothing but everything they had before. But all of them had given up- how could they not? Here was a massive winged creature- a DRAGON- most of them had never heard of one until they'd been collected- and here it was. Impenetrable scales, godlike strength and endurance, and none had ever seen a dragon bleed. None had ever seen one die. What was there for these people if not to accept their fate which... honestly wasn't that bad. This, the elf knew, for he had come to accept this world- this new place of safety and security- with open arms and enthusiasm. When others needed to see this truth- that living with the dragon was better than living on the surface- he was the man that helped them understand that. He didn't want some fool longing for a "better life" to ruin their peace- to test the temper of Yalisith for, though he had not harmed any of his Treasure, all knew he was capable of slaughtering them all in an instant. The elf sighed as Yalisith rambled and ranted on, the floor shaking slightly at the volume of Yalisith's voice, and the elf wondered if they were blessed in a way well- He [i]knew[/i] he was blessed. Oh yes, this Elf had come from a land besieged by beasts. Those that howled in the dark and tore themselves from the flesh of mortals. Horrors upon horrors had destroyed his village. Time and time again, they found them, transformed, then destroyed anything that could have been. Over and over his people fled- they fled until the land ran out- and were always pursued. Never resting. Never growing. Never living. Fleeing... always fleeing... And he'd been saved so many times, because he was special. So many put themselves in danger- to feed him and to save him- the "Harak's Song" they called him: Future leader to a people whose bones now fed the indifferent soil. Whose blood soaked into lands nameless and forgotten. And he, like all here, had been treasured then. Yalisith never let any of them forget that they were loved and treasured. Comfort and complacency had given the Harak's Song years to think upon his new fate, as one of many in this collection of Treasured Beings, but he still held old instincts. He knew when tensions rose, often between the Treasured Elves and Treasured Centaur pulled from the steppe. He could count the moments before things turned violent between the Kinnaras from the coast and the brutish Northern Kinnaras, due to their cultural misunderstandings. And the Harak's Song often felt the veritable electricity in the air that came from screams of pain, versus the warm screams of pleasure, or the cold screams of despair. For these people, the Harak's Song had become a mediator, mentor, and something of a leader. The Song of a dead culture, of a people that would never speak the words again, had been continued by Treasured, now. To him they looked for guidance and platitudes. In him, they found whatever they sought. So often they sought someone to further push them deeper into the acceptance that, from here, there was no escape, but there could be joy. And eagerly he gave them this. He helped them snuff out their foolish longing for "better" or their "hopes" of leaving- he snuffed it out and made them love their safety, because everything else was but pain and despair and fleeing and blood... and... blood... The Harak's Song, for his true name mattered to him no longer, kept the Treasured alive and docile. And for this, he knew, that Yalisith was the last one alive that saw him as a Treasure now. But there were his instincts still. The instincts. Unforgettable. Those old feelings. His gut writhed and wrenched now, his skin prickled and burned, and he knew that he had to do now, what he'd never done before. That he had to bring to the forefront the fear he'd pressed down- He had to give it voice- [color=F5C38D]"Yalisith!"[/color] Blinking, jolting slightly at the abrupt volume and terror laced within the piercing cry of his name, Yalisith was torn from his ranting, and didn't quite know how to react. He watched the Harak's Song carefully- he'd never been interrupted before- Getting to his feet, the Harak's Song shouted, [color=F5C38D]"You've brought someone vile to us- he is sick, Yalisith- he writhes in pain and his wailing has awakened half of us."[/color] A sudden wave of anxiety washed over the Harak's Song as Yalisith bared his wicked fangs. There was anger in Yalisith's eyes but the Dragon tilted his head, much to the Harak's Song's relief, directing that gaze down the tunnel connected to this chamber. His voice rumbled low with brewing fury, [color=AA4631]"Sickness? There was none which was detected in his holding- how could that be? It is not possible. You lie."[/color] The Harak's Song shook his head then pushed both of his palms toward the ground sharply, in a display of displeasure dead with his tribe, [color=F5C38D]"This requires urgency, Yalisith- this back and fourth will not happen- you will see for yourself now- we cannot do this-"[/color] and turning on his heel, the Harak's Song started off at a brisk pace. Despite the growl of anger- despite his want to run and beg forgiveness- the Harak's Song did not look over his shoulder as he kept his pace. The Harak's Song strode down the descending tunnel, which was once but a sharp upward split in the rock, that had since been ornately carved and chiseled into an orderly geometric pattern by those Treasured years ago. This lead to the adjoining cavern, a massive chamber which was in truth, a pit the dragon had carved into the rock to house his Treasured. This was the Treasured Goblet. Over time and generations multitudes had worked the stone, carved it and created a series of dwellings within the sheer faces of the cavern. This had taken generations indeed, for none among the treasured truly knew much about carving the rock, and they had not the time to learn properly, after those that chiseled the decorations into the roost tunnel had grown old and died. Yalisith was both smart and paranoid, so he let none of his treasured keep tools for very long- he'd let none of them learn the ways of working stone properly since then. He'd made his roost only accessible by flight and the entrance to the Treasured Goblet was but a tunnel hole in the ceiling far above, as well. So they were all well and truly trapped here. Without hesitation, he began his descent. Despite the size of the massive place, even from the top of the stone ladder which lead to Yalisith's roost, the Harak's Song could hear the pained screams of the sick elven man far below. The Harak's Song always found it very fitting how easily screams echoed here. No amount of the soft orange fire light, which had been brought here by Treasured Porries only a few generations ago, could ever really warm the place either. All those long dead stone-cutters had been right in carving angles and sharped edges into everything. The Harak's Song glanced upward, from his position halfway down the long descent into the Treasured Goblet, as he heard Yalisith's claws scrape at the entry to his roost. A soft rumble left the dragon's voice. Thick leathery wings opened as he dove from his perch and the Harak's Song braced himself- a rush of air followed as the dragon swept him from the ladder. [hr] A gentle thump followed as the Harak Son's rear touched the ground gently moments afterward. They'd landed at the bottom of the Goblet, where a great bonfire burned, and several of the other Treasured stood, circled around a man that writhed and convulsed. Though he was covered in blankets, the convulsing Elf man had since torn himself from them, in his uncontrolled movements. The Harak's Song knew they wouldn't matter anyway. Not with how the man was sweating blood. Several of the Treasured backed away in revulsion as the Harak's Song approached with Yalisith. Clenching his jaw, the Harak's Song said nothing, but moved closer to the man. These people... They always loved him when he kept them unaware of their fate, unaware of the Dragon, but never when they were aware of what he... how he... cooperated- How he enforced the way things were, kept the status quo, and stomped down any inklings of hope. How he kept them safe- because that's what he was doing- The Harak's Song only wanted to keep them safe. Yalisith was not a threat- not when they complied- and the dragon was benevolent in his treatment of them. They were Treasure to him. They were blessed. And the Harak's Song wanted to always keep them blessed, as so many had done before him- as so many had begged him to do. And so when the convulsing elven man stopped moving- his body rigid and back arched- his arms so tense and bent inward toward his chest, eyes bulging and red, the Harak's Song raised his voice in alarm. For he had his [i]instincts still[/i]. [color=F5C38D]"Get back- [b]GET BACK[/b]-"[/color] he yelled as the man's skin began to split. The Harak's Song froze. [color=AA4631]"What is this?"[/color] Yalisith rumbled in near-awe, watching the elf's rapid transformation- [sup][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2odIy3t4F78](Mood Music)[/url][/sup] All stood in captivated horror to behold the elven man's flesh slough off, like wax warmed by candle flame. Wetly it slopped onto the ground, exposing the raw and bloody muscle beneath, the taunt tendons, and glistening entrails. Vessels thrummed and pulsed as flesh gave way, lurching with every strained beat of the elf's slowing pulse- violently pushing thickening blood. Veins bulged and enlarged as arteries coiled and twisted about as serpents, tearing through the organs and muscle, forcing their way to the bloody surface. Spilled blood gathered and paled the discarded flesh, clinging to the rigid exposed form once more- blood which caused those arteries to boil and sizzle. They turned black as did the blood, as the flesh cooked and boiled in the viscous substance. Blackened bones began to peek as muscle peeled and flared away from them, the heat increasing to absurd levels, as the remaining muscle incinerated, the blood boiling black- Boiling black- Roiling darkness with scent of metal- A piercing cry of abject horror left the Harak's Song, tearing him from his frozen fear, as the boiling black blood of the Mireborn's birth HOWLED in chorus, as the creature took form from the dissolved corpse- a beast of blood- a bloody beast- Twisted and cursed, the blackened Mireborn LUNGED and the Harak's Song saw no more- For he fled. He fled toward the ladder- He fled before anyone else knew to flee- He fled without warning anyone- He fled even as the screams began- And when the roars picked up, he climbed and climbed, as the screams became a monstrous choir for the Harak's Song. So he did not see... [hr] He did not see Yalisith, fearing for the well-being of his Treasure, put himself between the twisted Mireborn of Beast Blood. The Dragon had pushed those nearby Treasures away with his tail before he snaked his long neck to block the lunging creature. It took only one blow. Those liquid claws, blackened and burning absurdly hot, seared the scales of the dragon open. Boiling blood seeped into the tender flesh beneath, as vile and ravenous as acid, as the Blackened Mireborn perished in the next instant- -becoming naught but a steaming puddle of inky murk upon the carvern floor- Yet the scales of Yalisith continued to burn and melt away from the wound- as if he'd caught fire- as if the blood itself was seeking to consume him whole despite the Mireborn's death- Yalisith was the one howling in monstrous agony now, as the acid spread from one scale to the next, bubbling black and cooking his flesh, as the greatest agony of all agonies seared his senses into madness. Those he'd protected were crushed as he lashed his tail about; others were crushed within their cavern homes, as he threw his weight against the stone, attepting to rid himself of the spreading pain- the fire- the blood- All the commotion brought more of the Treasures from their carved cavern homes. They too, froze in terror. They stared down at Yalisith, as the Harak's Song had not, and bore witness to the snapping and elongating of bones in the dragon's body. How his spine tried to take another form- how his bones tried to change- and how his own body seemed to fight against it. Bones and spines sprouted in an unorganized and chaotic mess- his form shifting and breaking all at once. Treasures watched Yalisith's eyes turn black then boil from their sockets as runny yolks- his lustrous golden scales slough from his body as fur tried to force its way from his flesh- his wings rotting to naught but bone in an instant- Sounds of pain- sounds of fear- the deep thunk of bone shifting against bone- and the splash of his boiling blood echoed within the cavern as the Treasures. For the first time, they then witnessed Yalisith spill their blood. Their Treasured and precious blood. [i]But anything to stop the pain[/i]. Yalisith wanted anything to stop the pain and his mind told him that more blood, NEW BLOOD, was needed to stop the pain- yes- [b]this[/b]- that was needed- he needed the blood- the blood of anything and [b]everything[/b]- Precious and treasured blood- To end his pain, Yalisith would drink their blood- remake his blood anew- Make their blood HIS blood- All thoughts ended as he stuck his claws deep into the walls, fighting wildly and madly to scramble up the cavern walls- sticking his claws and head into the caverns full of people, then gorging himself upon them- hundreds- nearing thousands- and the Treasured Goblet filled with blood- [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/af7BUp7.png[/img][/center] [hr] And this, The Harak's Song did not see, for he had crawled into a tunnel within the dragon's chamber. One he'd dug himself. One he'd hid from the others. This, his escape route- -incomplete. The Harak's Song lay in the dark as the stone pressed against him, as the air grew hot with his breath, as he realized he had no way to go forward. That he was trapped. That there was nothing to do but accept his fate. As he'd always had. And as the Harak's Song felt the stone at his shoulders, felt the solid stone before himself, the muffled screams sang to him, as they had before. He closed his eyes. He heard them screaming across the plains. Howls and elven screams. His exhales were hot against his face in the confined space- hot against his face as he covered his head with a blanket, as his mother held him in her arms- as the stone cradled him with a cold embrace. And when the screams did quiet, that silent song he'd heard so many times before, he gave them his tears. The Harak's Song was weeping. [hr] [color=AA4631]"My treasure I need my [i]treasure[/i] More- I need BLOOD- "[/color] A Howling roar filled with pain, misery, and ravenous longing echoed up through the cavern, as Yalisith stood deep in the blood of the Treasure Goblet, before his mind slipped away once more. In rage at his fate he clawed and lashed at the walls, thrashed about, destroying... Longing.... [i]Starving...[/i] [hider=Summary] Yalisith, a dragon, has a horde of "Treasure" that consists of Beloved People, deep in a hole beneath the Dead Steppe, called the Treasured Goblet. "The Harak's Song," a Treasured Elf, suspects that the newest addition brought into the horde is sick, and asks for Yalisith's attention. Turns out the elf was sick Mireborn. Turns out the Mireborn had Beast Blood Curse. It infects the dragon. The Dragon Transforms and kills (almost) everyone in the Treasured Goblet but it cannot escape the pit itself for now, due to the vertical drop required to enter the pit. [/hider] [sup][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5392359]Yalisith was previously mentioned in this post...[/url][/sup] [hider=Unique Creature: Yalisith, Lycanis Draconis] The only one of its kind infected by possibly the only method a dragon [i]could[/i] be, due to the natural armored plating of their scales. Created when the boiling hot blood of a Mireborn, inflicted with the beast blood curse, penetrated the scales of the dragon Yalisith, and bore a hole into his flesh. There are moments of lucid-madness within the creature's mind as it seeks to collect more treasure, which are the mortals it deems so valuable, yet it is hungry still. As its hunger grows, the beast will become more emaciated, yet death will not take it so easily, as it still has the lifespan of a dragon, after all. This will only drive it further into madness. This creature is capable of spreading the beast blood curse but possesses no particularly special abilities. A collection of Hobgoblin explorers and the Centaur Centurions know the location of this cavern, as they have sent several search and rescue missions after those the dragon has kidnapped, in the past. For now, there is little reason to venture into the beast's lair. [/hider]