How To Train Your Dragon [Eternal Empire, TSE, Black Suns]

[Frontier Tenacity]

Attn: Kainan Wolfe | Lorelai Ventira | Vyra Silara | Juggernaut | Cero Pax | Khorde Drago | Corran Conner | Saabossi | Curupira Hawk | Ingrid L'lerim | Gerhard Manndorf | Ilsa Visel | Anton Delane | Zoe Rosella | Rath Exigo | Will Westender | Briah Song | Taozi Fuyuan | Maani | Kresslyn Cantor | Goonch Bagarius Yarrelli | Nerulic | Custani Valcho | Marcus Itera | Mythos | Jersan Acklhus | Ren Vexx | James Cerensp | Skorov | Centiro | Phodrius | Jardann Lancus | Azazel | Magnhild | Darth Velneire | Carter Tymon | Wulf Orlock | Tiberius Bayne | Formorta
Useful Links: Kalidan on EEWiki | Tyrant Dragons​

• Southern Wastes
  Kalidan, Eternal Empire

Kalidan, the homeworld of the Eternal Empire, is a harsh planet. Once a lush garden, it has been devastated by a widespread nuclear war that unfolded in the days of the Gulag Plague, plunging the world into a nuclear winter that continues to this day. Superblizzards frequently sweep across the planet, wind speeds often reaching up to six hundred kilometers per hour, turning even the smallest pebbles into deadly projectiles. Nomadic tribes frequently raid settlements and convoys for supplies and slaves and what little fauna and flora survives here, is hardy, stubborn and quite often dangerous. Life here is difficult and often short.

And yet, all the dangers of this forsaken world pale when compared to one thing, one species of vicious, deadly creatures, which share this planet with the more intelligent colonists it preys on. Tyrant Dragons. Brought here by the original Tygerii colonists, in the wake of the nuclear war many have gone feral and have, over the centuries, infested the entire planet.

For hundreds of years, these feral dragons tore entire cities apart, laying waste to anything and everything in their path, while the survivors did not possess the resources to reclaim lost territory, or push the dragon menace back. But everything changes with time...

For the first time in centuries, a government now rules over the entire planet. Where there were once but scattered city-state and decrepit little villages on the verge of collapse, there is now an Empire, one with grand ambitions and a dark design for the future of the Unknown Regions. An Empire looking for the fuel to field a vast fleet of warships with which to set its ambitious plans in motion. Fortunately for this Empire, the fuel to do so, has been found. Vast deposits of it, within a region of Kalidan's southern wastes. Unfortunately, other things also call this region home. Other vicious, fire-breathing things.

Long distance observation has revealed dozens of Tyrant Dragon nests located within the vast expanse of this region. If the fuel deposits are to be exploited, these nests would have to be cleared out. Fortunately, this also coincided with the Empire's plans to acquire several of these dragons for use by its own armed forces, as they are formidable creatures which would make an effective and devastating weapon on the battlefield. Thus, Strategic Command, the Eternal Empire's executive branch of government, has put together an operation, complex and large in scale.

Several regiments of troops have been deployed to the southern wastes to hunt down and capture these beasts. In addition, a large bounty has been posted by the Contractors' Guild, reaching out to friendly nations and organizations such as the Sith Empire and the Black Suns, promising a sum of half a million credits to anyone who can capture and safely deliver these creatures to the Imperial military, in addition to any eggs these mercenaries found. Preparations were made, troops were deployed, mercenaries and bounty hunters from all over the galaxy were hired. And when the sun rose on the day the operation was scheduled, the great dragon hunt began.

​

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

As the hatch of the shuttle opened outward and telescoped down into the snow, Vidalu Na'an burrowed her face deeper into the upturned collar of her coat, allowing herself the tiniest moment of gratitude. Like everything else in her life these days, the coat was far too nice for her--thick, soft wool with built-in radiation insulate and a bantha fur lining that would've cost her at least a month's salary back on Dantooine. The gloves were equally extravagant, made of some pliant fabric that somehow still allowed her to retain her hands' full range of motion. Thinking too hard about the circumstances that landed her such luxury sent Na'an's stomach rolling just a little. But it was, she had to admit, wonderfully warm, and warmth was a necessary luxury on Kalidan.

It didn't really come as any surprise that Her Majesty would insist on the best for her...'staff'. It wouldn't do for her to come back from such an event with radioactive frostbite, would it?

The air outside the shuttle was white with the last few remnants of a storm that promised to subside within the next hour. A gust of snow-speckled wind blew up the hatch, nipping at Na'an's exposed cheeks and nose; she winced again, focusing on how the sudden cold sent her heart thrumming. She'd volunteered for this hunt as soon as she heard about it. Feral Tyrant dragons, running wild, devastating cities? An organized hunt to neutralize as many as one wanted, no rules but to favor a capture over a kill? The promise of danger--not the complicated, painful, brain-bending political sort, but the simple and straightfoward kind, where the strength of one's hands and limbs and lungs could be enough to subdue anything that threatened you?

She needed this. Gods, she needed this. She could even ignore the implications of what the Empire would be doing with the live captures, just for an afternoon of bloody peace.

She checked her pockets--which, she noted with another small twist in her gut, in this coat were plentiful and deep. The emergency radiation pills were safe, flush against her skin in the sleeve's inner lining. The other sleeve concealed a medical injector and several tranq cartridges. Five tagging beacons were nestled against her left hip, clinking lightly against the navigator and roll of syntherope she'd placed there that morning. On her right, she'd programmed an emergency beacon to a private frequency, one tap away from activation. Leigh had made her promise to carry that with her as soon as she knew Na'an was going to be involved in this strange exercise. Tyrant dragons were dangerous, she'd said, with that far-too-even sternness she adopted whenever she thought her human partner was getting too reckless (which was, she'd admit, more and more often these days). The droid didn't want to find out Na'an was in trouble only when Babylon was activated.

In her chest pocket, the flap unbuttoned for easy access, was the only weapon she'd bothered bringing along.

"I'm off," she said to nobody in particular, pointedly not looking back into the belly of the shuttle. "Ping me before takeoff. I won't go out of range."
Then she jumped down off the hatch and into the snow, pulling her eyepatch up into her hair and blinking rapidly. After a moment's acclimation, the implant's audiovisual array kicked in, and Na'an could faintly see the outline of a ruin about a hundred yards away. If she squinted, she could already make out the bulk of some large animal picking its way between wrecked buildings. If she ran, she might make it there before anyone else was even on the move.

Time to go.

 

[Formorta]

Hunting massive beasts was nothing new to Formorta, a many contracts she had taken after the first fall of the Eternal Empire had involved hunting large prey. Sometimes for simple pest extermination, other times to acquire some sort of material they had or held and then there was the more unusual request to capture said targets. As such she had no real reason not to accept such a request form the 'Eternal Emperor' even if her old station wasn't viable anymore, her time as a shroud was in the past, for now acting as a private contractor would have to do.

As usual her skills as a tracker and scout would be the most useful in this coming event, a large military force wasn't exactly the easiest thing to use when hunting beats. They would need to use clever tactics and trick to lure the beast to where they wanted, least have the catch onto the military forces and either run or fight to the death. Still as per usual one had to wait before anything began, this mission would require everyone working together not just herself no matter how skilled she was.

For the time being, as she usually did before any battle the masked assassin cleaned and checked each of her firearms and other combat equipment. Having something go wrong while hunting down dragons was a sure fire way to get yourself killed, a bullet or blaster wound was easy to survive, being crush or eaten alive was a little harder to shrug off.

 

[Viktor Goetz]

Viktor kneeled down on the ground and dragged his finger across the barren land underneath him. Firm resistance stopped his finger from making any true traction, and his finger glided across the cold sand.

'Compressed sand. Hm. Must be getting closer.'

Rising up, he straightened his back and slowly surveyed the area around him. Barren wastelands covered everything he could see, and it seemed more like a gigantic desert than a hospitable environment for any living thing, let alone dragons.

Yet his experience hunting greater krayt dragons informed him this was where the biggest, ugliest and meanest one would be. As dragons grew in size, it was often the case that their muscular and skeletal systems would have harder times coping with the massive increase in size. While some odd freaks of nature existed, most of these large dragons would thus seek environments to compensate for their giant bodies: water, abundant winds, and for most earthen dragons, sand.

Capturing or killing big game was not a challenge for Viktor; he captured many greater krayt dragons for plenty of warlords who viewed the beasts as divine prizes that demonstrated their influence and strength. The crazier ones used the creatures as war beasts or bodily supplements. The end-fate of these creatures did not matter. What did matter is that big game hunting was one of the galaxy's highest paying endeavors, as the chaos and war in the galaxy produced vast concentrations of wealth. And with wealth, came the need to project power, and nothing spoke more about power than having a colossal dragon as a door mat.

And that's where Viktor came in. Seizing eggs and young was an easy enough feat through misdirection and stealth, but capturing the real deal in the wild? That was a challenge. A very lucrative challenge, that not only required great force but also a devious and sharp mind.

As Viktor finished his musings and survey, he continued walking. As he walked, however, four distinct shimmers followed closely behind him.

After walking a few clicks deeper into the wasteland desert, the lackluster sun was almost instantly obscured and the wind began its furious resistance against him. Thick snow began pelting the sands underneath him, quickly accumulating and encroaching above Viktor's shoes. Soon, his vision was obscured by a massive blizzard and it became difficult to differentiate between snow that the winds violently picked off the ground and snow falling from the skies.

A mix of snow and sand abrasively slashed across his mask, leaving a faint scratch across his rugged and armored breathing mask.

'I'm close.'

His scanners quickly indicated a starship landing and dropping off an individual, about a few hundred meters away from his location. Seeing as how the starship managed to leave unscathed, that area must be outside the scope of the blizzard he was in.

'Hm, company?'

Accessing Kalidan's planetary maps, he identified a set of ruins nearby from the individual's position.

'Might as well introduce myself, I need some shelter from this storm.'

And so, Viktor began slowly trekking across the blizzard toward Vidalu Na'an 's position.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

Attn: Vyra Silara | Vidalu Na'an | Formorta | Khorde Drago
Ship: Styx-class Dropship Equipment: Uniform | Sword | Spear | Rifle | Pistol​

• Southern Wastes
  Kalidan, Eternal Empire

The dropship rattled and vibrated, its engines humming just a touch too loudly as it sped towards its destination. Blocky and compact, the design of the little vessel had about as much elegance as a flying brick, which it somewhat resembled in shape and the interior was about as comfortable as the rugged, armored hull suggested. Which was, not very comfortable at all. Simple, sturdy metal seats for passengers to be seated in, along with handrails and winches for rappelling down via the two large doors which framed the dropship's sides, were the only furnishings, aside from the weapon racks and the complicated instruments in the cockpit. Like everything else in the Eternal Empire, Styx-class dropships were not built for comfort, or elegance. They were sturdy little military vessels, engineered to stubbornly withstand whatever was thrown at them by the harsh planet outside, as well as sustained enemy fire while executing the extraordinarily difficult combat landings the Imperials had become infamous for.

Dressed, as always, in the white uniform of his station, the Eternal Emperor's unnatural, feline eyes drifted to the dark-haired woman seated beside him, reaching out with a calloused, taloned hand and grasping her delicate one, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, a tiny hint of worry escaping through the calm, cold mask he almost always put up. This mission was a dangerous one, but he wasn't the kind of man who would keep her from actively participating in the duties and day-to-day business of leading the Eternal Empire, no matter how difficult or dangerous and he wouldn't refuse her request to join the hunt. Indeed, he respected that about her, about this woman who would soon become his wife, who had stirred in him such strange, confusing thoughts.

What he wouldn't allow, however, was her coming along without adequate protection. He went over the equipment one more time, checking every weapon again, an old habit of his, hearkening back to a time when he was but a simple mercenary, drifting from battlefield to battlefield. He handed her both items, one after the other, a pistol and a rifle like the one he carried. Like the dropship they were flying in, there was nothing elegant about these weapons. They were plain, functional weapons, designed for military use, for ruggedness, reliability and stopping power, highly versatile due to their dual ammunition feed. "When we land, stay close to me," he said to her, raising his voice so that she could hear him over the loud humming of the engines. "If we get separated, stay close to your guards. In the Empire, we work and fight as a unit, with coordination and discipline. Out there, these things can be and often are the difference between life and death."

The dropships slowed down abruptly, descending upon a flat bed of snow-encrusted, glassy sand, doors swinging open to release their occupants, several squads of soldiers. This was as far as they could risk approaching by air, any closer would be far too dangerous. Even the sturdy Styx-class dropships could not withstand a direct assault from an metal-eating, adult Tyrant Dragon. Some of the soldiers would stay behind with the dropships, securing the landing zone in case the strike team needed a quick extraction. Up in the distance, barely visible through the blizzard that was sweeping across the open plain, a column of tanks and other armored vehicles could be seen advancing towards some destination along the artillery line which stretched for several kilometers. This was an operation on a scale not seen on Kalidan since the unification of the planet, involving multiple regiments and thousands of soldiers, vehicles and heavy ordinance. Tyrant Dragons were vicious, deadly beasts, extraordinarily resilient and capable of laying waste to entire cities. An infestation of this size definitely warranted the kind of firepower the Imperials had brought to bear.

The Emperor's Wolfguards closed ranks around them and he snapped a few quick orders to their captain, Khorde Drago , the hand gestures informing him to have his troops keep an eye on the horizon at all times. The enemy was one which would strike from the sky. Waving for Vyra to follow him, his eyes lingered on hers for a few moments, as if to tell her to be careful, then patched his comlink into the frequency reserved for scouts, looking for an assassin with whom he had worked before. "<<Formorta, this is Alpha Wolf,>>" he spoke in High Nelvaanian, the Empire's language. "<<Report.>>"

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

The air was cold enough to hurt Na'an's lungs a little as she approached the first of the ruins; she found herself oddly relishing the sensation, enjoying the way it seemed to sharpen her senses even without the Force, even beyond what the implant would normally do. Under the wind's whistle, she could hear the faint mechanical sounds of machinery in the distance--tanks, dropships, heavy ordnance. The rest of the contingent ordered into this exercise were being formally organized, creating a front line in order to ensure maximum coverage of the area. Vaguely, she wondered how many of the soldiers (conscripts? slaves? clones, or maybe droids? no way they were all volunteers) out there had briefed themselves on the anatomy and nature of the beasts they were being ordered to hunt. Were any of them afraid? Did any of them know enough to be afraid?

She, at least, had spent last night poring over every flimsy she could find, trying to give herself a sense of what she was about to see. She braced herself against the first wall she reached, breathing lightly, mouthing what she'd learned to herself as a reminder.

Orgo-metallic armor plating. Twice the height of a rancor, and six times the length. Teeth easily the length of your forearm. Not that you'll see them, once it starts breathing fire. And it's Force-sensitive, at least a little. It'll feel you coming if you're not careful.

No wonder Leigh didn't understand why she was dead set on coming here. If the droid had been able to sense even a fraction of what she was feeling now, she'd think Na'an was suicidal.

As her breathing eased, she could hear other sounds in the ruin now, closer than that of the machinery. Not far now, not far at all, that large bulk she'd seen from the shuttle was plodding its way through what must have been a village's main street. Na'an closed her eyes momentarily, her breath stopping altogether to better isolate the noise, reaching out with her mind.

The crunch of snow under one, two, three, four gigantic feet. The loud huff of breathing, an exhale through titanic lungs. And under that, a rumbling, faint but ever-present--a strangely liquid sound, thicker than water, thicker than blood, carrying with it impressions of tremendous pressure and unbearable heat--

She had to take a look. Her heart hammering in her chest, Na'an inched her way to the edge of the building's back wall, poking her head out only just enough to take her first look at the fully-grown Tyrant dragon rooting around in the snow.

The first thing that Na'an thought was that knowing that Tyrant dragons were ten meters tall and thirty meters long wasn't quite the same as seeing it. The flank of the animal--cream-colored, with streaks of red along the spine and keel leading into the wings--was a wall, several times taller than her entire body, with ropes of muscle as thick as her thigh flexing under the scaled skin. The scales gleamed only slightly in the muted blizzard-light, the organic alloy looking almost opalescent as they moved. The wall of flesh tapered back and back and back after the massive clawed haunches, leading into a thick tail ridged with sharp-looking red spines. Na'an didn't even dare to breathe as the dragon's head rose over her--impossibly tall, taller even than the few buildings still intact around it. It was holding what looked like an old KX-series security droid in its mouth; as Na'an watched, it tipped its head back, snapping and ripping at the droid with its huge teeth and swallowing it in chunks. It exhaled, rumbled in satisfaction as it bent back down, and even ducking back around the wall Na'an could feel the heat of its breath on the back of her neck.

It was gorgeous. It was the most terrifying animal Vidalu Na'an had seen in years.

And that was just the first one she hoped to fight today.

But...

But that wasn't all. There was another presence nearby, Na'an realized with sudden sharp certainty. It was smaller than the dragon, much closer to her own size, but just as close. Her eyes still closed, she could pick out the details--two feet rather than four, the flap of a cape, the muffled mechanical sound of breath filtering through some kind of mask.
It wasn't a standard uniform, to be sure. Another volunteer? Or maybe a bounty hunter aiming to make this the last job they'd ever need? Whoever it was, they were coming towards her from the opposite side of the dragon, approaching it from the tail rather than the head. Na'an opened her eyes again and scooted against the wall until she reached a crumbled section, turning to peer back over her shoulder without losing her cover.

Sure enough, there he was, a tall humanoid approaching the ruins from the western edge. The mask she'd sensed was part of some full-body armored suit, which from the sound of his breathing had to be insulated from the cold. A smart move, in this weather.

The rifle on his back, however...

She hissed at him, a pointed tsssst-tsssst-tssssst meant to carry only a few yards, waggling one hand to try to get the stranger's ( Viktor Goetz ) attention. With her other hand, she was already fishing around in her pocket for the syntherope.

 

[Viktor Goetz]

Viktor slowly walked across the snow, his boots lightly crunching against the freshly fallen snow. In any other backdrop, most would surmise that he was having the time of his life, casually strolling through a snowy day. But Kalidan was no such backdrop. Death was long absent and replaced with a complete stillness and nothingness that suffocated its inhabitants. Fresh snow and extreme blizzards in the southern wastelands were mired with radioactivity and toxicity, and the unforgiving weather claimed the lives of many. But the Empire endured best in these types of environments. And so did the gigantic behemoth of a dragon in front of him, which slowly lurked and traversed in front of him. Fortunately, his extensive training in suppressing his presence succeeded him today, and his talents in the Force as well as stealth enabled him to remain undetected.

For a moment, the world was still and Viktor felt his warm breath echo through his rebreather. The pause after each breath seemed like an eternal reminder of the miserable cold and gloom around him, but he was instantly reassured as he took his next breath. A very slight layer of fog would appear and dissipate over the lenses of his rebreather, and the warmth of his breath reflecting back against the mask and passing over his pale, cold face was a reminder that he was still alive.

As he examined the ruins quietly, he noticed a smaller, petite figure dressed only in a coat, waving their hand at him. He instantly felt that the weight of his modified Sk-UL Mk2 Armor was a bit heavier, despite great efforts being made into lightening the armor and reducing the visual and sound profile of the armor. Viktor gave her a small wave before quietly making his way over to the figure by circling around the hungry dragon, mindfully glancing at the preoccupied Tyrant dragon once in a while to make sure it did not sense him.

'How odd, aren't they cold?' He mused to himself as he kept watching the figure as he walked around. As he caught up and went next to the figure, he noticed that they were on the shorter side and were quite thin, thinner for even a skinny person. He waved a little more enthusiastically as he had reached his goal and gently tapped one of their hands ( Vidalu Na'an ).

 

[Aaran Tafo]

The money never interested him. The idea of hunting a dangerous beast never crossed his mind. The fact that he was travelling to an extremely hostile Death World controlled by a terrible facist government did not so much as blip on his radar. The only thing that did seem to give him some concern was with how strong the Dark Side seemed to be on this desolate world. But that was not an overly surprising thing. Many worlds with such a hostile environment and such a harsh people tended to attract such negative energy.

Simply being dark did not make the general populace evil. And there was little reason to judge them like that. After all, they were kind enough to give Aaran a great amount of advice on how to surive out in the wastes. What vehicle to rent. And most importantly. What kind of protective gear he should wear.

The all-encompassing protective suit was rather uncomfortable to wear in the large, clunky wheeled vehicle he rented. Once he finally stepped out into the bitter cold. He found himself grateful for it. As such extreme conditions were not one that an unprotected individual could survive.

Parking his rented van a short distance away from the village. He began to scurry his way in towards the ruins. Keeping his presence muted as best he could. Ducking from ruined wall to ruined wall. Excitement building in his gut.

Ducking in through the ruined wall of a small building, he skulked his way towards a shattered window. Poking his head over the windowsill to get a good look at his prize.

And just like Vidalu. Aaran thought it was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. A manifestation of childhood stories and old legends come to life. A walking titan of muscle and the raw unfettered power of nature. This. This is why he came here. Not for the credits, not for the fame of being named a Dragonslayer. But simply so he could witness a legend come to life.

On a purely objective note. He could understand why such a creature had to be hunted. He was born a farmer. He could understand the need to cull pests and cultivate useful animals to serve the community. But looking at such a proud and noble creature. Aaran couldnt help but be saddened by the fate that awaited it. Part of him hoping it would be able to make an escape.

But such an event was unlikely. It was an animal defending teritory from invaders. It was unlikely to leave. So instead Aaran would stay. Not attempting to agress upon the creature or claim its head for his own. But instead he would attempt to preserve life. Hopefully ensuring that no living bounty hunters or soldiers fell prey to the beast. It was the very least he could do in the situation.

 

[Khorde Drago]

There was a stark difference in hearing the stories, and going out to confront them. Ever since he was a boy, Khorde had heard the tales of the mighty Tyrants, beasts of flame and metal, that preyed on the cities of Kalidan as if they were nothing more than hunting grounds. He heard of how a single adult could reduce a settlement to nothing more than ash and bone, to be reclaimed by the snows of the planet's super blizzards in the days to come. And while tales did exist of the Tyrants being slain or defeated, it was only after a massive undertaking by group of extraordinary individuals. But even in those stories, it was only one, two of the creatures at most. The operation they'd be in involved dozens.

Khorde shifted in his seat as the shuttle experienced turbulence, rattling those within as the winds of the planet battered the hull. In truth, he disliked air speeders. Most of his people would, if asked directly. The weather of Kalidan made air travel by anything but the hardiest vessels a dangerous and often times fatal undertaking. Even the use of land speeders, suspended low from the ground through the use of repulsors, was not recommended. Indeed, most of Kalidan's vehicular travel was done through traction based vehicles, heavy and sturdily made.

"Ready to slay some beasts of legend, Khorde?" A filtered voice spoke up besides him. One of his fellow Wolfguard, and the man who could said to be his best friend, Cal Talon, was looking at him, the helmet covering his face not being able to hide the smirk that no doubt lie on the man's face. Cal was often times the counter to Khorde's own serious or somber moods, lightening the tension even in the most trying times. He was also one of the most capable and dangerous soldiers he'd ever seen on a battlefield, traits which made him an excellent second-in-command.

"If the situation calls for it, Thorn, my fangs are sharpened." Cal let off a low chuckle in response, and settled into his seat. The shuttle back into silence, at least, until the Emperor himself spoke, his words being of reassurance and reminder to the woman next to him. He had to wonder in the back of his mind why he'd allow her on such a dangerous endeavor, though quickly reminded himself that men often gave way in the face of strong-willed women, or those that they loved, as he often did with his own wife on occasion.

With the shuttle landing, he and the other Wolfguards were the first to depart, quickly falling into a formation with Kainan Wolfe and the soon-to-be Empress, Vyra Silara at the center of a loosened circle, the men positioned in a way that they'd quickly be able to close ranks around the two. Khorde himself remained close to the two, a sort of final insurance of safety, short of the Emperor himself getting involved. Acknowledging the man's wordless orders, both he and his fellow wolves watched both the horizon and the sky for any signs of threat or the potential of such.

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

So this guy ( Viktor Goetz ) knew a little what he was doing, at least. Na'an registered the stranger's response to her call (nonverbal acknowledgement, quick traversal indicating stealth training) in the back of her mind, at first focusing on completing the task at hand. The synthrope coil in her pocket was silky between her fingers, even despite the reinforced durasteel threading; she tied a small loop at both ends, experimenting with a couple knots before settling on a locking slip. One loop went over her wrist, pulled comfortably tight, while the other she left open. She was just about to reach for the injector in her sleeve when a gloved hand reached for hers.

She froze for only a moment. The hand was large, masculine, definitely human. Her new companion was a human, then. The gesture was oddly gentle, given the circumstances--a simple greeting from some world or another. Na'an let herself relax just a hair, turning her organic eye towards him as she went back to fiddling with her sleeve.

"With that weapon," she said briskly, quietly, "You're also going for a live capture, not a kill. At least, I hope that was your plan."

The first cartridge fit into the injector with an easy click, and Na'an stowed it back in her sleeve. She'd need to be able to whip it out and use it in a single gesture, if need be.

 

[Viktor Goetz]

Shaking his head in non-agreement, Viktor leaned his rifle against the building and slowly removed the large rucksack from his back, quietly placing it on the ground. Opening the backpack and revealing a neatly but compactly packed assortment of additional survival gear, plasteel containers, and winter clothing, Viktor removed the top-most medium-sized plasteel container from the top and opened it, revealing a neatly organized and placed set of injectors, synthskin, bacta patches, stimulants, small durasteel containers, and vials of variously colored liquids. On top of the contents of this well-organized medpac were numerous chocolate bars, obscuring most of the contents of the container Viktor embarrassingly moved them aside to take out one of the vials, which was clear in color. Closing the container and putting it back into rucksack, he removed one of the grenades from his belt and inserted the vial within.

Passing the grenade over to Vidalu Na'an , he explained in a low, quiet voice, "Enhanced nerve gas-based stun grenade. Impact setting. If you hit the dragon in the head with this, it'll probably be knocked unconscious after a few minutes. However, the dragon needs to be contained in that area."

Removing another grenade off his belt as well as a grappling gun from his belt, he continued, smiling underneath his mask, "Are we going in quietly or with a bang?"

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Na'an took the grenade with wide-eyed surprise, turning it over in her palm as the strange human closed up his bag. So he wasn't as unprepared as his choice of firearm would lead one to believe.
"These will work faster than the tranqs I've got," she mused, "but like you said the range is limited. It won't be enough to just smash one in that monster's face...we'll have to make sure it keeps breathing the gas without igniting it."
She turned the grenade over again in both hands, once, twice, three times, staring into its trigger mechanism intently. Next to her, this human had prepared a second grenade, and was waiting for her response expectantly. How polite of him. But then, maybe he didn't have a plan to make this work either. They'd have to contain the dragon's head within range of the gas grenade, without letting it breathe fire and without getting eaten...
Unbidden, Na'an's eyes slid back to the loop of syntherope on her wrist. She followed it down, to the remaining open loop, then back up to where the Tyrant dragon was crunching down on yet another droid. The dragon's head was crested with scarlet spines, swept back from its forehead in a brilliant display; the smaller ones waved with the animal's movements, while the largest looked stiff enough to perhaps be backed with bone.

"I think I can handle that part," she said suddenly. She bent back towards the man, pressing the grenade he'd given to her back into his palm with both hands, then straightened. "Can I trust your aim to not hit me with those things? I'm going to need both of my hands free for this."

She grinned wolfishly at him, and snapped a length of the synthrope taut between her fingers.

 

[Formorta]

Despite having grown up on the desert world of Tatooine the extreme tundra environment wasn't of much concern to the pale women. In some light it was actually more comfortable, snow was much easier to hide in then sand, tracking was also made simpler, even the smallest heat signature stuck out like a sore thumb in such weather. One could say she worked best in such a place but now wasn't the time to debate such matters as the cloaked sniper laid in the cold ground.

It had been a few hours since her last report, Formorta having landed before the main party as a forward scout, getting a rough idea of what they were in for. Even when going up against a wild beast intelligence was a key factor for a smooth operation, for the time being while awaiting the others she had been surveying the nearby country side for anything to help in their search. Yet again another skill she was an expert at, laying in one spot motionless in the freezing cold was harder then expected but as a sniper she was well accustomed to it.

She'd maintain her position until otherwise told, the women's red gaze lowering to her wrist as the time melted away, "any minute now". On que, without any delayed her comlink came to life, those 6 words being all she needed to hear. "Slight movement south of your location, track matching information about our targets have been observed along with said movement". "Shall I continue to fallow on food and give regular updates or should I regroup with the main force"?

Kainan Wolfe

 

[Cero Pax]

The hull of the Ne'tra Tracinya creaked and whined against the harsh battering of one of Kalidan's many super blizzards, the occasional shuttering due to turbulence rattling some of the looser components of the ship. This didn't borrow Cero much. The ship had seen centuries of conflicts all across the galaxy. It had been fired on by capital ships, sucked into planetary gravity wells, and, if he believed his grandfather's stories, briefly traveled through a volcano. Something like a little cold and a light breeze wouldn't be enough to bring it down. Though, he noted, a dragon might.

He'd come to know the Eternal Empire as generous employers, the contracts funneled through their government-sponsored guild always paying well in terms of a risk-slash-reward ratio. He found himself enjoying the steady stream of income, which for a mercenary, even a skilled one, was a common occurrence. He found himself spending more and more time within the empire's territories, so much so that he considered finding some sort of semi-permanent residence, to be kept for a variety of reasons: storage, rest, training, mostly things that he couldn't accomplish on the Ne'tra or at some outpost or hostel.

Being a Pax, he'd been trained for the life, and found it suited him almost as well as his beskar'gam. He enjoyed it, the thrills of combat, the pursuit of the hunt, the challenges that each new foe brought. There were times that, even if he died during the fight, he wouldn't have done so with regret; in fact, he'd would have been at peace with it. Luckily, though, those hadn't been the end of him, and with some to spare, this one wouldn't be either.

He almost didn't believe the contact when he saw it. 500,000 credits. Most would never touch that amount in their entire lives, let alone earn it on a single, albeit almost-suicidal job. That much money, you could live like a king for years in center sectors of the Outer Rim, and in others, live a comfortable retirement. Cero of course, wasn't thinking along those line. Money like that, could pay for upgrades, for his ship, for his weapons, hell, for him, if he wanted cybernetics. He could even afford to have an entire new beskar'gam crafted for himself, he had the mind for it. And all he had to do, was take down a beast that most would think was just a story.

The EE had collected a decent amount of information on the Tyrant Dragon, he gave them that. Adults measuring nearly as big as the Ne'tra, they breathed flames and had scales mostly composed of metal. The kind differed on their diet, but it was a safe bet to say most devoured the durasteel and duranium deposits natural to the world. The bounty specified safe delivery of one of the beasts to the Imperials, meaning dead wasn't a likely option. But, depending on things went, that may not be a choice. If push ca e to shove, he'd just have to end the beast and raid the nest for it's eggs.

Some hits from his blaster turrets would be good for distracting and annoying the beast, while a few hits from his ion cannons would probably wound them enough for capture. He primed up the ship's weapon systems as he crossed into the territory, briefly flying over the regiments and battalions of EE troops who themselves would soon engage with the bulk of the nests. Cero had chosen one farther out, both to ensure that no one interfered, and to ensure that any of the ones he found weren't able to call for help.

The sensor began to blip as he closed in on his target nest. "Alright, let's see if they live up to the stories.", uttered in Mando'a.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He had to admit. Seeing such an incredible creature in action was worth the freezing cold. It was worth the annoying customs check and the monotonous bureaucracy of landing on such a tightly controlled world. He winced slightly at the loud crunch of another battle droid being crushed beneath the titan's bulk. Glad it was not a living being in peril. Or hell, even a droid with some degree of their own self.

Say what you will about droids. As far as Aaran was concerned, any form of life capable of self-determination was worth protecting, be they organic or mechanical. But thankfully, as far as he could tell. No one like that was in danger. So for now, the Padawan could rest easy. Moving himself to lean out of the window as he watched the beast do its work. The growls and snarls emanating from the Dragon contained such bass that the former farmer could feel it deep in his bones. "Incredible." His voice came as a breathy whisper at the sight of such an incarnation of Mother Nature's indomitable will. He could feel the Living Force blaze within this creature from how close he was. It burned within it as brightly as the flames it exuded. It truly was such a tragedy that such creatures needed culling. But until it seemed that someone would be in danger. It was not Aaran's place to interfere. A Jedi must respect other cultures and ways of life. Even if they personally disagree with them.

Almost as an afterthought. He reached into the insulated pack he purchased. pawing around for a moment before he pulled out another one of his purchases on this world. A sturdy Holocamera. Specially designed to operate in such extreme conditions. Even though he would likely remember this event in vivid detail for the rest of his life. He still wanted to capture it. Give himself a more tangible memory he could keep back on the Freebird whenever he wished to let his thoughts dwell on past adventures.

With a slight whirring noise and a sharp click. The Holocamera did its work. But, much to the Padawan's chargrin. He found that he never disabled the flash function. He blinked once, turning to look at his Holocamera for a moment. Before quickly ducking down below the ruined window he had been peering outside.

Hopefully, with all the chaos going on. The Beast would not pay any attention to the bright flash of light and simply continue on its merry rampage on some poor droids.

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Location: Kalidan
Wearing: xxx
Tag: N/A | Open to interact

It was rare Kerstan responded to an invitation from the Eternal Empire. Most of their excursions failed to serve the mutual benefit he had originally hoped they could. The shackles forced upon them by the Confederacy of Independent Systems made it difficult for the Empire to behave in a way that Kerstan could draw any sort of benefit from. That had changed, and thanks to the perseverance of Tacitus himself, Kerstan found himself with yet another invitation in his hand, this one he had accepted. Tacitus simply did not know it.​

​

Kerstan enjoyed his independence. He was neither loyal to the Confederacy or the Eternal Empire. His loyalties did not go beyond himself and what he could gain. His selfish demeanor truly had no limit, and if a certain action would cause more gain than loss in fulfilling his agenda, Kerstan would take it. There was nothing he held sacred, and no code of morality which limited him. His experiments spoke enough to that.​

​

Today the draw was the promise of dragons. Kerstan could care less whether he left with a dragon for himself personally. The man was after their DNA. His quest to create the perfect soldier was still ongoing. The assassin he had perfected, but the soldier proved to be even more elusive than the assassin. While she was his first and best, the drive to create kept Kerstan moving forward. His compulsion to once again have Indupar under the banner of the Blackmoore name nearly made him mad.​

​

His ship touched down near the others, though he traveled alone. Kerstan did not need the company of others as most saw it. He did his best work when alone or with his assassin. She truly brought out the best and worst in him. Such was the nature of their relationship. Booted feet walked down the ramp and touched the ground with a pause. Eyes surveyed the immediate area before the Dark Lord pressed ahead. Kerstan would find what he needed, and hopefully without interruption. Today he did not wish to play the political games required to be part of the group.​

 

[Viktor Goetz]

Viktor tilted his head in puzzlement and responded, "You know I am apart of the Eternal Empire, right? I would have been executed by my drill instructors already if I couldn't throw a grenade correctly..."

He recalled his bitter days training apart of the Ultranaut Corps. Viktor was orphaned at the age of thirteen, and he only had three years left of freedom before being mandatorily drafted as apart of the Eternal Army. Orphans had little say in the paths of their lives, and despite Viktor's status as an aristocrat and family bloodline as a noble, all orphans, regardless of status, were to serve the state. During these three years, Viktor did his best to find any remnants of his family. Yet they were bitterly exterminated by unknown political enemies, and Viktor could only bitterly accept defeat as the holdings of the Goetz family were relegated to other nobles and aristocrats. The Barony of the Goetz family was not hereditary and was titularly granted due to his family's continued success and merits gained as apart of the Eternal Empire. His father was a skilled statesman and his grandfather was a respected war veteran apart of the Eternal Army; his grandfather had established the hereditary right of nobility and his father gained the title of Baron.

If there were any adult members of the Goetz family, there would be a chance for the Barony of the Goetz family to be temporarily held while Viktor reached adulthood, in which he would be expected to serve the Empire and prove the right to hold the Barony. But his enemies were ruthless, an Viktor could not find a single member of the Goetz bloodline.

And so, after Viktor could not find a guardian for the Barony of the Goetz family, it was seized and redistributed by the state. With the wealth and inheritance of the Goetz family, Viktor quickly thrusted himself into training and various apprenticeships to prepare himself for the life of an Ultranaut. The Eternal Army was a ruthless organization, yet it was the best place to earn merits and the favor of the Emperor. Upon joining the Ultranauts, Viktor proved his mettle and ascended the ranks to lead his own regiment, before retiring into the reserves and statehood following his attainment of the Baron title.

As he bitterly recollected those memories, he readied himself and nodded, "You can trust me though, I will follow your lead."

Vidalu Na'an

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

So the stranger ( Viktor Goetz ) wasn’t a bounty hunter. He was proud, drink-the-Striaga Empire stock. Na’an frowned a little at the news, but only for a moment. She should have expected that, after all; they were on an Empire world, and she herself was technically a servant of the future Empress, willing or no. At any rate, she wasn’t about to let it ruin this for her. The important thing was that, whatever his allegiances, this guy was currently on board. Now, there was nothing left but to coil the rope around her arm, then…

Then, well, do something a little crazy.

Na’an gulped in a few deep breaths to psyche herself up, feeling the icy air coursing all the way down her lungs, into her bones. Back in the main street, the Tyrant dragon huffed as if in response, which sent another gust of sulfrous exhalation down the backs of both their necks. Na’an didn’t have to imagine the maw that would make that much heat, that kind of smell.

She was about to be face-to-face with it.

“Okay then," she said in a voice that, she was glad to hear, held only the tiniest giddy quaver. “Okay, okay okay okay, here we go--”

And without giving herself time to think, she launched herself out from their hiding place, skirting down the alley towards where the dragon dominated the street.

The trick to this would be getting enough height to make the throw in one try. As she ducked under a pile of rubble just at the edge of the alley, Na’an scanned the newly visible parts of the street. There were several overhangs overhead, what looked to be sections of roof only partially collapsed. The tallest of them was right next to the dragon’s head--too perfectly so, she realized, because if she didn’t land the throw just right she’d be primed for getting roasted. What she needed was a tall enough vantage point, out of the line of fire but close enough to the dragon’s crest to reach--

There.

About two buildings back from where they were, on the other side of the street, an apartment building was only half-demolished. Several of the residences’s street-facing walls were still intact, and there, on the third floor, was a balcony.

It was perfect. Na’an crouched, her good eye half-closed. She turned her focus inward for a moment, to following the frantic beating of her heart, the flow of her blood, down to her legs. She pictured the muscles in them coiling, tensing, the Force building inside them second by second, until--

Now. NOW!

Her Jump send her bounding upwards, ricocheting off the alley walls to keep up momentum until she was balanced on top of the wreck. From there, it was another easy Jump to the next building, then the next, her limbs carrying her nimbly from one perch to another. She paused on a rooftop to gather her energy again, but also to let her prosthetic calculate the trajectory for the third and final Force Jump, the one that would fling her in a silent arc over the dragon’s back and onto the balcony.

The execution...wasn’t perfect. Na’an could almost feel her blood freeze as her foot clipped a loose edge of the balcony, sending a chunk of duracrete tumbling into the street with a crash. The dragon paused in its eating, the huge head half-raised to look in her direction. She had only a second to duck into the apartment itself to hide, to try to slow her breathing, to suppress the pounding tattoo of her heart. It can sense the Force, she remembered from the flimsies, It can sense the Force, it can sense the Force, so keep calm, keep calm keep calm keep calm calm calm!

The dragon wasn’t looking away. If anything, she could hear the bulk of the animal shifting, as if turning towards the apartment building to investigate. The angle would be all wrong; if Na’an stayed in this apartment she’d get eaten or set ablaze before she could even make the throw. She couldn’t get her breathing under control. Her heart wasn’t slowing fast enough. It had to know she was there, it had to have sensed her despite all her efforts to hide her presence, that damned piece of duracrete had given her away--the interior of the apartment was a collapsed wreck, there was no other way out--

Right as Na’an was sure she’d blundered herself into the one death she hadn’t anticipated the Empire giving her, her audiovisual array picked up the click--and the flash--of a camera.

Wait.

What?

The sounds of the dragon paused, as if the unexpected new noise confused it just as much. Na’an dared to poke her head out through the balcony opening, and to her surprise found the dragon was turning away again, looking down and to the right. Something on street-level had gotten the beast’s attention with that click--something much more obvious in the Force than either herself or the stranger with the grenades--and it must have decided to investigate. Even in the sudden rush of euphoria that came with not dying, Na’an knew that anyone hapless enough to be spectating right now ( Aaran Tafo ) had to be even more suicidal than she seemed to be. At least she wasn’t trying to get the giant fire-breathing monster’s attention!

But there wasn’t time to criticize, or hesitate. The dragon was arcing its head downwards away from her, the crest standing stiffly upwards from its neck. The main spine was fully exposed at this angle, as good a shot as Na’an could have asked for, as perfect as if the Force itself had planned this moment. She uncoiled the syntherope from her arm, taking the empty loop in both hands to widen it. A quick breath to center herself in the Force, to steady her feet and guide her hands, then she fixed her prosthetic eye on her target and threw.

The loop wavered as it flew, and for a moment Na’an held her breath, sure it would fail to hit her target. Had the wind thrown off her aim, even at this short distance? But the Force was good to her, for once--the loop hooked on the tip of the main spine, then slid down to settle at the spine’s base. Na’an found herself exhaling giddily, almost giggling at how well this part of the plan had gone off.

That being said, this part was the easy part. This was the part that required her to avoid attracting the dragon’s notice.

The next part required her to piss it off.

Her heart kicked up another notch, sending a shiver of excitement down every inch of her skin. But now was not the time to glory in that feeling. Na’an braced her feet, prayed a quick prayer that Empire Guy hadn’t run off and abandoned her, then took a length of the syntherope in both hands and yanked.

The loop tightened, then locked around the dragon’s main spine. The dragon’s head jerked in response to the syntherope, the beast making a startled, half-choked growl at the feel of someone suddenly, violently tweaking its neck. It tried to pull its head back down, to free itself from the sudden restraint, but Na’an held firm, her arms straining against the animal’s pull on her. She focused on her arms again, feeling the muscles in them bunch with the Force as she yanked again, and this time the dragon’s growl was angrier, louder. It pulled harder, and so did Na’an, one final time, jerking it back hard enough for the syntherope to slack a little.

And then there it was--the moment Na’an been waiting for. The dragon’s head, parallel to hers, fixing her gaze with one giant, scarlet, furious eye. Na’an thrilled to it, her hands on the syntherope loosening until the entire length of it pooled between them.

“Hello, beastie,” she whispered.

The beast opened its mouth and roared, the sound loud enough to shake every bone in Na’an’s flesh. The huge head swung away, thrust itself angrily through the air to bellow fire and fury at the world, and in seconds the rope coil at her feet was flying after it until there was nothing left but--

Na’an felt a sudden, massive tug at her wrist, where she’d tied the second loop. This time, she didn’t brace herself against it. Rather, she whooped as her body flung itself into this new momentum, and shot into the sky after the flailing dragon head.

It was chaos. It wasn’t anything like leaping under her own power. The closest thing to this she’d ever done was dangling from a mynock board in Coruscant, and that was far smoother. The dragon was enraged, its head swinging and twisting to belch flames in every direction, and Na’an swung after it in crazy, unpredictable arcs. Every change in direction yanked agonizingly at her wrist, hard enough to dislocate it. For several seconds it was all Na’an could do to hold on, to pull herself together enough to brace her other hand and distribute the impact, even as her body arced high, dropped, swung back with enough force to make her dizzy. She had to get control of the arc, make it work for her, or she’d pass out soon.
On the beast’s next upward motion, Na’an sucked in a deep breath, spinning to pump her legs downwards as if on a child’s swing. The effect was immediate--as the dragon whipped its head furiously upward, she rocketed down, arcing under its chin in a circle with enough momentum to push her back up and over the head again. She found herself crowing into the air as the arc started to die, her body suspended for a heartbeat, the sound fierce and victorious in her throat. Then she flung her fists back behind her in a Force Push that sent her spinning over and down. She could follow her path with both eyes now, count the twin loops of syntherope as they gathered against the dragon’s jaw ridges. The dragon was still raging, throwing spurts of fire into the air, trying to throw the pest that had attached itself to its face. Na’an had the trick of it now, though, and she got two or three more loops in, pumping her legs and Pushing against any nearby walls to maintain the momentum of her body.

But she had to come down at some point. The goal, after all, was to restrain the beast, not to ride it like a theme park attraction. On the next upward arc, Na’an let the moment of suspension last, long enough to scan the ground for a place to land. There was a half-crumbled wall at the edge of the street with a stable looking base; that would have to do. Spinning herself back to face the sky, Na’an gathered all her focus into one last Force Push, one powerful enough to break the arc of the swing and send her plummeting straight down towards the space behind the wreck. As she passed the beast’s head, the syntherope slacked, then pulled suddenly taut. The loops around the dragon’s jaw followed suit, tightening until the beast’s mouth was forced shut with a sharp snap.

Na’an slammed into the ground on her back, hard enough to force the air from her lungs in one sudden whoosh. She gasped helplessly for a moment as she scrabbled against the snow, her boots providing little traction against the wet slippery stuff. The dragon’s head had been yanked down with her, almost down to the ground, but it wouldn’t stay there long. In a moment it would pull her back into the air, swing her around like a wheezing ragdoll, unless she found her purchase. There was a moment of panic, thinking perhaps she’d misjudged the distance again on the landing, then thank the gods, her feet hit something hard. The wall. The muscles in her thighs screamed as she braced herself against it; the muscles in her arms screamed as they strained to maintain her hold on the syntherope.

“Grenade!” she screamed, hoping the stranger in the mask had stayed close enough to hear. “Grenade, grenade grenade grenade grenade grenaaaaaaaaaade--”

 

[Aaran Tafo]

The normal reaction to the average inhabitant of the Galaxy to a giant, slavering, incredibly dangerous beast bearing down on you would typically be panic, the voiding of one's bowels, a great deal of screaming. All of that would then most likely be followed by a messy death. Thankfully, Aaran was not an average inhabitant of the Galaxy. He was a Mystic Warrior trained from a young age to remain calm and composed in the face of danger.

So instead of screaming and running with his arms flailing above his head. He instead calmly flicked off the flash function of the Holocam with one finger as he took another snap of the beast. Grateful for the chance to get the image of the beast from the front.

It was then Aaran decided to run. Jumping backwards from the window and running in the opposite direction. Completely missing his reckless saviour perform a stunt that was arguably just as reckless as Aaran's early attempt at photgraphy. If not more so.

He began to duck and weave through the buildings. First assuming that the distressed noises of the Dragon behind him were it vocalising its' frustration of not being able to find and devour the tourist. He did not consider looking back until he felt the familiar tingle on the back of his neck. An itching on the top of his brain signifying that someone nearby was channelling the Force in a rather overt way.

He craned his neck back to see his unlikely saviour complete her loop around the Dragon's head. He blinked once under the sealed survival suit as his head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. Almost without thought, he pulled out the Holocam again to immortalize the moment, before kicking off back towards the beast.

Intentional or not. Whoever it was that was currently attempting to wrangle the Dragon may have very well saved Aaran's life. And he would be a lesser man if he let such a debt go unpaid. As he ran snow was kicked up behind him as he made his way back through the vilage, legs pumping furiously as he ran back towards the creature that nearly killed him moments before.

Arriving at crumbled wall, mere moments after Na'an rose to her own feet. As she made a desperate cry for someone to throw explosives of all things. She would find her burden lifted, if only slightly. As two humans, no matter how strong were still only minor irritants to the Dragon.

Moving to her side and grasping the Synthrope with both hands. Aaran proped one foot up against the wall as he began to pull as well. Leveraging every ounce of his considerable muscle against the beast. Hoping to hold it in place for just a few moments more. "Just wanted a blasted Holopic." He grunted through gritted teeth as he strained against the indominitable might of the Monster. Hopefully buying enough time for whoever it was Na'an was calling out to.

 

[Viktor Goetz]

As Vidalu Na'an ran forward in a fantastic spectacle of dexterity, sheer luck, and a lot of recklessness, Viktor took a deep breath and suppressed his heartbeat. Activating the sound suppression systems of his armor and its optical targeting system, his eyes began glowing bright red, the signature of the Eternal Army's standard Ultranaut armor.

Bolting directly forward toward the dragon, his new ally managed to heavily distract the dragon's attention, as well as the presence of a new figure, Aaran Tafo . Shaking his head at the complete disregard of personal safety, Viktor activated the modified nerve gas grenade and squarely threw the grenade at the dragon's head, aiming at the nostrils. As the grenade exploded in one of the dragon's nostrils, he continued his mad dash forward, firing the grappling gun at the dragon's back leg. The hook failed to lodge itself in the dragon's flesh due to its metallic scales, causing him to frown. He tossed the grappling gun aside and reached for another grenade.

Viktor threw the gas grenade at the dragon's other nostril before charging forward and vaulting on top of the dragon's head. Unclipping a strange hammer from his belt, Viktor began slamming the hammer at the same, precise location, in a motion that looked like Viktor was trying to forge rather than harm the dragon. The attacks seemed effective enough, paired together with the gas grenade, in slowly chipping away at the sanity and consciousness of the dragon.

As the repulsor and shockwave generators caused fissures in the dragon's scale with Viktor's repeated strikes, he looked up at his two new acquaintances, and introduced himself.

"Hello. My name is Viktor Goetz."