Mars

Aetri nodded and stepped forward, they would pursue step five without hesitation. Only... His leg wouldn't move. His knee had locked mid-step.

"Boy?" Lee strode in, pulling her demonic mask aside she grasped his shoulder as He swayed.

His shoulders became heavy, his mind wandered away. He lost feeling of his legs, his arms, and almost in an instant, He became nought but a thing, floating above his unconscious form.

Lee rushed to him, Kara dove to make sure He was okay... but Aetri was not there...

He awoke, standing in shallow water and silent whispers that sung like a choir, It was the dream.

"You have begun to Daydream. Curious." The Voice echoed from every direction. The Watcher.

Aetri shook his head and spat into the water "I am needed. Send me back."

"You are broken. Do you think this is nothing? that you can ignore, this is your restoration!" The Voice boomed.

"I hid that away long ago, I left it all behind... I can't bring it all back." He muttered honestly.

There was a silence and then, a hand, not cold, but warm touched his shoulder "You cannot run from fate, Kid. You must embrace what you are, there are consequences to power, and you must conquer it, as I know you will."

Aetri froze... a chill running down his spine "U-uncle?"

That's when it all came crashing down, and he was swept away into a time that He wished that He would never again have to see.

Smoke filled the sky and hellfire rained down. "SHEILDS!" Ozwuld roared but it was on death ears. Fire rained down, setting men alight, smashing through their armour and melting through their visors.

Ozwuld was blown away by an explosion, flying off his feet as his men crashed into the river, singed corpses floating like leaves.

He was fortunate to land in a haystack, though his armour weighed on him. He tore away his pauldrons and stood tall as a few men in full armour pulled around the corner.

He felt the surge of power he had long abandoned, it flared to life in his veins and gripping his heavy mace, Ozwuld dashed into the enemy knights. They were dead in seconds, he had crushed the breastplate of one, caved in another's helmet and snapped the neck of the last one.

Huffing, the old man shook his arms, it had been a while since he'd been out killing, it was natural to be a little rusty.

Ozwuld knelt down to leer at the men as another explosion boomed in the distance, roaring and screams echoing around him. These men, they wore Crimson and gold: Paravant Colours and they carried muskets, Bors Guns, this was cut and dry, they had been betrayed.

His ears caught on the sound of footsteps, raising his mace momentarily before seeing a heavy knight, smeared with blood "Falst! thank the gods."

Falstaff stumbled, He'd taken a hard blow to his side. Oz grasped his arm and helped him along "They're... in the Merchants quarter, they've breached the inner city.... killing... everyone." He gasped.

Ozwuld nodded grimly "Then we gather who we can and retreat to the palace."

Falst shook his head "Those things, those men... they are monsters."

Oz chuckled "No shit."

They pushed through the ruins and wreckage, buildings were blasted to shambles, flames rose so high that they blocked out the sky with their smoke, charred bodies lay scattered around them in all directions. Ozwuld shook his head and covered his nose... the stench was horrifying.

Falstaff eventually sucked it up, forcing himself to stand as He took up his outrageously heavy sword.

They were in clear sight, running after the civilians, devouring the soldiers, setting everything ablaze, was a hoard of scaled beasts, Firedrakes of every variety. Ignix, Salamanders, wingless drakes that crushed women, digging in through front doors to eat children like a bird of prey attacking a nest.

The Two men rumbled with rage, gripping their weapons and roaring, storming into the massacre with vengeance in their hearts.

They stormed into the fight and damn if they did not live up to their legends. Aetri distinctly watched in awe, as Ozwuld the Iron Dragon crushed the heads of salamanders, with Falstaff the Boulder cleaving at the throats of drakes, it was a spectacle that Aetri never dreamed he would see.

Lord Havel the Boulder lived up to his name, he charged straight under dragon fire, smashing into a salamander and breaking the great beast's ribs, and with a flash of his sword, he painted the streets with dragon blood, beheading lizards with a blade of Scarlet obsidian, a Violet-maroon substance so mysterious, that it could trick its way through dragon scales.

Oh but lord Wulda, regent and protector of Britannia raised his octagonal mace, stained red with the blood that had soaked into the Star-Iron.

The man flew forward and oozed with power, smashing his mace into the skull of a Drake and thrusting his fist into the vents of its throat, cleanly ripping out its beating heart. The Iron Dragon raised his Mace and bloodied hand and roared like a beast.

The Serpents noticed, became instantly agitated and went for the charge. Ozwuld had been disappointed at the weakness of his enemy, compared to the Great fire drakes of the old days, these fledgelings were nothing.

Aetri wretched, shaking his head "DON'T GET COCKY, PULL BACK, PULL BACK AND RUN!! PLEASE! RUUUN!!" He screamed to the memory, that could not see him, nor hear him.

There was a faint kind of sound, a whisper on old ears, whimpering, screaming, begging for help. Ozwuld hoisted up his mace, and dove to a burning building, bolting towards its entrance He broke the door into splinters, rushing through the smoke restlessly as He came upon a door, rumbling with people inside. Tearing off the doorknob, Ozwuld growled, the smoke was starting to make him tired.

"Stand Back!"

His mace shot through the wood door, and as soon as a small exit became available, a dozen men and women dashed outside and into the light.

Ozwuld ushered the coughing bodies through "Good thing my ears haven't quite gone yet." He grumbled. The Elder warrior peered at the peasants who caught their breaths outside, his dragon visor gazing furiously in return. "Are you well enough to run?" He asked.

One of the men nodded weakly.

"Good, then get to Drakenhald, shout it to all you see on the way there, the Monsters hate loud noises. Go!" He barked and they instantly obeyed, dashing through the streets littered with the corpses that He and Falstaff had made.

Some of the men had rallied, many of the enemy Paravant knights had fallen, the Golden Garrison were easily the superior warriors, but as Ozwuld found and led his old horse: Madam, back towards the Draken gate to the safety of the Moon-Palace... something very unnatural hit the air. It was foul and instilled a deep burning terror. The breeze became hot, it was a pain to breathe and the heat became unbearable. There was a flaming hellfire in the crimson sky as the clouds were stained black with ash, that began to fall ominously.

The world froze, warriors dropped their swords, let go of their spears, people came out of their shelters to see, children watched from every corner... even the young prince who had snuck to the gate, with his mother screaming to pull him away.

Their eyes wherein but one place, the great outer wall that protected Camelot, it stood tall but... the ground rumbled, a heavy burst of heat and the batting of wings, all watched the outer gate as it came closer, and closer. there was silence, everybody in Camelot would remember that silence, living or dead.

It emerged like a flailing monstrosity, its body so huge that it lent on the outer wall, easily 60 meters in height with its huge body covered in bone white scales, alive with a flame so hot that it melted the stone beneath it. Its red eyes peered over Camelot, the Great Capital must have been like an evening rug to it, but Ozwuld could not shake the fact that it was clearly full of recognition, it knew who to look for, as it gazed Directly at Falstaff who shook so hard that his mind was gone.

Then... it looked at Ozwuld, it's huge flaming orbs, full of delight... Ozwuld... He... Shed a tear, and shook his head in disgust.

The Mighty flaming Beast snarled its gnashing teeth all wrought with flames, then opened its colossal jaws to let out a roar so foul and so loud that it cracked every glass in Camelot, bursting out with unbearable heat and immense power.

All shook with terror, as many more serpents, flaming beasts with dripping maws hungry for flesh, emerged from beneath this Dragon God of flame.

Its many horned heads flashed with gold, its wings raising, they lit up the sky as bright as the sun. The World seemed to snap out of it and immediately all ran in terror, sprinting to the castle to cover, to anything that was away from this being of untold destruction.

Ozwuld grimaced in terror, dashing back as He called to Falstaff desperately "THAT'S ONE OF THEM!! THAT'S A REAL DRAGON, GOD!!!" He screamed, grasping Falst as He watched the beast in an unbroken trance. "Falst we need to get the fuck out of here, right now!" but it was no use, He merely shook his head and sat down.

The Lord Regent snarled with rage "FALST GET YOUR ARSE UP, I WILL NOT LEAVE LADY HAVEL A WIDOW!" Ozwuld demanded, and commanded, and tried to drag at his arm with all his might... but Falst was a solider, a damn good one, a sword if ever there was one... but a sword cannot know of the forge, something that could shape it so... that is what would shatter a mind of steel.

Ozwuld looked back, somebody had to help carry him... but everybody ran with their lives in their hands, sprinting to the castle as the Lord regent struggled with his friend. "Falst, please, don't do this."

"This truly is my dragons day." He muttered, turning to his friend he rested his eyes, full of terror and smiled "Goodbye. Old friend."

Growling and shaking his head, Lord Ozwuld gripped his brother's shoulder and walked away, They were men of honour, and Falstaff the Boulder would suffer cremation after the loss of his mind.

Aetri was sickened.

They had tried to run, everyone, even Ozwuld, but it was too late. Fire unlike any other filled the streets, melting stone, reducing all to ash and lava pits, Ozwuld had tried to save all He could from the Dragon gods path as He drew into the Draken gate, but much of the merchants quarter was red, hot and bubbling.

"GET INTO THE CASTLE, ESCAPE THROUGH THE KINGS PASSAGE, GO!" The Survivors dashed past him in crowds, and Ozwuld turned to peer at the Moon-Palace, Drakenhald, where he and 21 generations of his bloodline had settled. He hoped as He headed inside, that it would keep them safe... from Edwyn.