Pit Dragon
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Invulnerability
Flight
Xyor Pyrefist was a monster of a creature, at least by human standards, not so much by dragon standards. His father a leader of the Pyrefist clan known as Zyraith, openly helped the Lydenvale Kingdom because they wanted the protection of the clan to keep any unwanted guest away from their kingdom. Zyraith also got himself involved with a noble woman by the name Myladia. We will just leave it at that. For Myladia, she has been long dead and Zyraith is still shackled somewhere in the far reaches of the Pyrefist lands for the exiled. And we now have a great champion in the pit at the Lydenvale Arena. Over eight feet and weighing over a half a ton he was a muscularly build but retained a lean aspect about him. His face a testament to dragon's, a strong face with a hefty maw that could crush a mans arm. Large battered wings from the many years of battles in the arena, his arms wrapped in rough brown and blood stained linens with small spiked bucklers covering his elbows. His pants are made of heavy leather using the fallen warriors belts to tie down his pants tightly to his body. He has bore the test of time well, never being defeated in battle for nearly three quarters of a century.
The air was thicker than the usual dank and mold that permeated the air in his cell. He started my day as always looking over my various weapons he had constructed or taken from the fallen in the arena. "What should I use today," Xyor said to himself. "Pike? Flail? Or studded mace? No. I'll give them a show today and use my bare hands, they enjoy that more." He readies himself for the on coming battle.
The usual preceding of announcing each combatant goes without a hitch and the arena battle commences. As Xyor and the knight circle trying to size each other up. The knight makes the first move with a charging slash aiming for Xyor's shoulder. Xyor blocks the blade with his wrapped forearms cutting some of the wrapping lose. The knight draws back to attempt another attack. Xyor grabs the hilt of the knights sword and hold his arm in place with Xyor countering with his right fist igniting to flames in mid punch crushing in the knight's helm singeing his cheek with white hot metal. This was going to be an easy win for Xyor, but everything changed when a bright golden orb appears amidst the arena battlefield. Strange human shaped beings in long robes with white colored helms covering their faces came pouring through the orb firing of bolts of ice and snow in their hand held staffs. They turn their attention to our champion and try to tackle him down with their magic. Xyor knew what to do for himself. Fight his way through the mountains of Ice men attempting to apprehend him. A brave and noble battle he fought, but there were too many men. To our shock and horror our champion was subdued into an encasing of ice and haul through the golden orb to never bee seen from since this day. It has been a decade since I last saw our champion Xyor Pyrefist, and only the gods knows if he is to return to his home.
With Xyor in Crey's "possession" it was no easy feat to keep him restrained, dazed and confused from his ordeals both there and now here, he eventually broke out and started rampaging through parts of Paragon City before being subdued by the Freedom Phalanx. "Hey, I thought dragons were mythological creatures," Positron noted with the report of a dragon-esce creature running rampant through Paragon City.
"Well then, can you look up any files that might lead us to this new threat," Statesman said.
"Probably."
"While we wait, I'll contact the Vindicators to deal with him once we get more information on it."
"Will Do," Ms. Liberty said over the Comm.
"Uhh... guys." The Comm clicks back on. "You might want to get out here as soon as possible. He's making short work of us already," Mynx said heaving, "... and I thought Countess Crey was a bitch."
"Positron, you heard her."
"I know. It's still searching. Grab everyone else and I'll join once I have something, okay?"
"Alright, but it better be soon."
"Got it, finally. He's the file, it's from Crey Industries. How the hell they got a hold of a portal is beyond me, but here goes. A possible new alternate dimension outside of the known Paragon Earth and Praetorian Earth, only mentioned as the portal named x9032. It is uncertain as to what would be his native equal in Paragon or Praetorian.Crey's attempt to "tame" a half-breed dragon from the x9032 portal. Code name Pit Dragon, Xyor Pyrefist was the reigning pit arena champion of the Lydenvale kingdom.He was an anomaly, since dragons and humans are an inter species in his dimension allowing mating between the two races. Though looked down upon. His mother Myladia, a human, had grown close friends to the Pyrefist dragon clan. She had fallen in love with Zyraith Pyrefist and had a child. Enraged by their act the elders of the Pyrefist clan condemned Zyraith to the dungeons until his last breathe and sent Myladia back to Lydenvale. When word came she was forever locked away never to see her husband or son again. The Pyrefist clan felt that Xyor's parents sin did not mean he too should die, but to test his ability as a half-breed. Sending him to Lydenvale to participate in their arena battles to prove his worth. Treated more like an animal that human or dragon. Locked away within the arena wall he became a master of the pit. The only he managed to keep his "humanity/dragon hood" by the many fights against knights wanting a crack at him in the arena, learning how they fought told him how they lived. Having no one beat him is 75 years, until falling hands to Crey's invasion of his realm during a pit fight. It is unknown the whereabouts of his opponent."
"You've got to be kidding me," Manticore said half-joking half-serious.
"Apparently not. So we've got our hands full. Be there in a minute."
"Freedom Phalanx," Pit Dragon said winded. "You will pay dearly for this."
"I'm sure I will, since I'm a taxpayer that funds Zigursky," Manticore said coyly.
"Enough Manticore. Our job here is done," Statesman said.
I haven't see the light of day for nearly five years. A small amount of time for me, but was quite enjoyable in the heat of battle.
Xyor pondered to himself. Something was off that day. By the time Xyor said, "What's that smell?" Arachnos steamed into strategic holes blasted through the prison walls. An Arachnos agent with a buzz saw-like apparatus attempted to try and free Xyor of his shackles, but not knowing what the result would be Xyor quickly took his shackled hands and and double fisted the agent into the wall. Hearing the ruckus another agents appears saying, "Calm down, we're here to get you out of this place by the request of our leader Lord Recluse."
"Then I apologies for my actions."
"No need for one, just hurry up and get to the Arachnos Fliers before more Longbow or even worse Freedom Phalanx show up. Now, go!"
Freedom Phalanx, you will be next.
Xyor Pyrefist's rise in power didn't go unnoticed by Longbow for very long. Borrowed from the Crey filed code naming him Pit Dragon, Longbow had use Wyvren as a freelance front in the Rogues Isle to keep tabs on various villains. Pit Dragon appeared back into Longbow's radar after Pit Dragon's assault on a Wyvren base with their villain hit list.
The knight and the dragon circle each other as if it were a slow dance. "I know much about you Knightward. I can thank your other self on such information," Xyor grinned as he waited on who would make the first move.
"I was given some on you as well, so I'm not entirely in the dark," Knightward answered.
"However I am very curious on how a suit of armor can live and I would love to see how you tick," Xyor quipped.
"It's too long of a tale to give you such pleasantries," Knightward honestly answered.
"Very well then, I'll just have to beat it out of you," Xyor snarled.
Knightward readies himself for Pit Dragon's on coming charge, but to his surprise the dragon ducks to pick something up from the floor and spins to Knightward. Fists did not meet his sword, but a piece of rebar engulfed in a fire sword. *Clank* "Resourceful as ever, I see."
"Quite, and your swordsmanship doesn't fail you." The fight looked more like a sparring match than a real battle. While Pit Dragon relished the moment Knightward was more concerned on protecting the medical teleporters. The last bits of the rebar had started to melt away, Pit Dragon tossed it aside and was met with a downward swing of Knightward's sword. The weight of Knightward was able to push Pit Dragon to a knee, but it did little to no damage to his scaly body. In retaliation Pit Dragon grabs Knightward by the cuff of his breastplate pulling his helm into his face and biting. Steel and sharp bones grated against each other. Knightward could only think of one thing to do, detach his helm from the rest of his body and fell backwards into the floor. Pit Dragon's eyes dimmed for a moment, noting the weight differential, spat out the helm with a large spray of fire from his mouth. "'Tis a good trick, however I do have to admit you've done a fine job of keeping me away from the medical porters." Knightward had hoped he hadn't noticed, but it seems little gets past this dragon. "I wouldn't worry too much, I'm more interested in fighting you now than someone else failed objective."
Pit Dragon picks up Knightward's partially charred helm and threw back at him. "Shall we?" he inquired. Placing his helm back upon his breastplate Knightward returned the answer, "We shall."
Knightward stuck to the edges of their combat, he knew getting too close would spell disaster. He miscalculated a dodge and was met squarely in the chest with a fiery punch pushing him a few feet back. Not noticing the small indention it created, Knightward saw his opening, but would it work? Knightward leaned back and tossed his sword like a javelin with all of his might. Time seemed to have slowed for a split second as the projectile landed into Pit Dragon's left shoulder. A thunderous wail filled the room, echoing out like an earthquake, but Pit Dragon's pain came with another sound, "...hahaha, Hahaha, HAHAHAHA!" As blood started to seep out of his wound, "That's more like it. Someone that can push my limits, but you're at a disadvantage now."
Oh, shit, Knighward said in his head. His plan worked, just not exactly. Instead of charging by foot, Pit Dragon switched to the air, albeit a low flight. Swooping down like a hawk after its prey, pinned Knightward with his large clawed feet, grabbing him with his good arm he flings Knightward across the room into the adjacent wall. Popping out of the crater that had been created with his body waiting for the next strike, but was met immediately with a large hunk of concrete flooring. "I'll bury you with everything," Pit Dragon roared. Ripping pieces of the wall and ceiling and throwing them where Knightward lay underneath.
"You can't win this fight," Knightward said from his rubble prison.
"Neither can you," he answered.
They both knew it was a stalemate. Dislodging Knightward's sword from his arm and stabbed it into the rubble where Knightward lay. "Remember this, when Owain is dead and gone, I will remain." With those parting words Xyor walked away into the tunnel, unwrapping his wrist cloths he fashioned a bandage for his wound. He smiled, Maybe I have a reason to stay here after all.
Knightward had done his job, protect the medical teleporters, but the last words that the dragon mentioned to him didn't sit well, what did he mean? It's the least of my worries right now. Doing his fall apart trick again to remove himself from the rubble, reassembled himself sitting in front of the porters. Sitting there in deep thought looking at his sword stabbed into the rubble he asked the question he could only hear, Now what?
The huff from his nostrils signaled an end to his meditation. Xyor had been in deep thought over the past several months. The raid against the Defenders had been considered a success despite the general inactivity of the Destroyers. It was time to return home, but for an instance. He had no desire to relinquish his freedom he gained from being stolen away years ago. A meeting will his father had to be done. The urge to become a more powerful being would require learning from one of the greatest, Zyraith, his father. Vernon Von Grun was a bit reluctant in in giving the dragon what he wanted, but enough discussion persuaded him to comply. Xyor knew where he would appear through the portal, it was the only known coordination in Crey Industries database to access the Lydenvale dimension. It would have to be at the dead of night to proceed with his plans. Any sort of guardian contact could compromise his mission and return to Primal Earth. Binding his wings to crisscrossed on his back, cloaking himself to appear more human, albeit an eight foot tall human.
The thick air signaled his arrival home, but things weren't as they were when he had left, the arena was in disrepair, the metal bars that held back each fighter before a match were rusted and bent. The walls were overgrown with moss and vines, cracks littered the seats where spectators once watched. A stone statue of himself had been erected since his departure, in the center of the pit. Never seeing it in the pristine smooth marble it had once shown. Now coarse and cracked from the elements of the ages. Much of what he once knew was now overgrown and deserted. Despite the surprise of what he had seen, he pressed on to his father's land, or at least what was left of it.
Three days of traversing through swamps and plains Xyor reached the volcanic range of the Pyrefist clan. He had kept his cloak near his body, a human hooded shadowy figure would bound to get noticed, but also being half the size of a dragon looking like one would also do the same. He could hear the flapping, the wings of those watching him. He would be ready at a moments notice if he would be attacked or greeted by the watchful eyes. Though not completely knowing where his father had been imprisoned to, he pressed on to a mountain still active with magma and a language he had never seen written on the rocky face glowing in a red hue at a mouth of a cave leading into the red and orange depths. Two large masses touched down behind Xyor, the loud thuds meant they were the guardians of this particular place. He would not turn around unless spoken to, and sort of sudden movement could spell tragedy.
One of the two figures spoke up, "What do we have here, a human?"
Slowly turning around Xyor caught the glimpse of his followers. Two dark red dragons with claws as big as his torso, holding a halberd each, wings so massive they were like red sails of a ship, and large yellow reptilian eyes gazed upon him, he said calmly, "I'm only passing through, but the writing on this mountain intrigued me so I came to get a better look."
"Oh that, it's Draconian," the dragon to his left said.
"May I inquire as to what it says," Xyor asked.
"Curiosity can get you killed, but if it can get you to leave sure," the dragon said, "Zyraith the Fool, this is the fate of those who love a human."
"Thank you kindly, since I never had the privilege to learn it," Xyor bowed, "then that also means that I have reach my destination."
"What, whoa there," the left dragon said, "you aren't going anywhere other than the opposite direction."
Xyor only sighed beneath his cloak and pulled back his hood to reveal his scaly head, "I have come to see my father."
"Impossible," they both said with eyes widened, "you're supposed to be dead..."
Xyor snarls, "As you can tell I am not, if I recall a dragon cannot be denied a court with his relatives, no?"
They both step back, "No, we shall proceed to the depths of Pyrefist."
No torches were needed in their descent, the red and orange glow of the magma lit the gleaming onyx steps carved out of obsidian rock face. Black stalagmites and stalactites scattered throughout the cavernous openings. Xyor finally understood what it is to be a Pyrefist, the scalding hot heat, glow of the liquid magma, he could feel the power it gave him. Perhaps this was what his calling to return home, the true power of a dragon. "It shouldn't be too much longer," the one walking before Xyor said.
Deep within the recesses of the mountain stood the Pillars. Five stood in the shape of a pentagon, each with a heavy metal shackle connected near its stop, each led into a glacier of ice in its center. The shackles were connected to neck, arms, and feet. Where stood the father of Xyor, the massive red dragon Zyraith encased in it's ice with only his head sticking out. How it did not melt was beyond Xyor's knowledge, magic most likely. "You have a visitor, Zyraith," they both said.
Without even opening his eyes, "Do not mock me with such lies, it has been over 300 years since someone has bother to acknowledge I'm here. Leave me."
Xyor thought to himself, 300 years, is that possible? He knowledge as a dragon is still infantile, but being here had began to change his thoughts. Walking up to his father, inches away from face, perhaps Zyraith smelling his brood he would then realize this was not a joke. His shallow breath breathed in taking in the natural odor of Xyor, he furrowed his brow, casually opening his bright yellow eyes. "Son," he asked.
"Yes, I am here," Xyor answered.
Zyraith snarled to the two guardians, "Leave us!"
They both bowed and left them in the silence of the cave. Xyor sat down with his clawed feet folded beneath him, hands in lap, and breathed deeply. "Father, there is something I need to know about me, about us."
"Knowing you are not dead is reassuring, however it was ill advised to leave the place you were at. Returning here can only mean one thing, something has changed."
"It has," Xyor said staring into his father's eyes, "Where I have been there is well, I'm not sure if it's psychical, but it's called the Well of the Furies. I've apparently been drawn to it, or it me."
"Very familiar," his father said, "but ours no longer exist, it was consumed eons ago by us, Tiamat, Bahamut, and Sardior were the three that are the beings that came before us. The immense power bestowed upon them changed them into almost god-like beings. Because you are only half, you were drawn to it due to the fact you do not hold the same amount of power as I do. In other words your access to this well will surely give you the complete power the dragon in you wants."
"Hmmm....," Xyor thinks, "so the path before me is something to chase after, despite it possibly being a very hard and long road ahead."
"A hard task I am sure of, but you must be prepared for it as well," his father says, "close your eyes and concentrate towards me. I will give you the knowledge you need to know about my past and of the teachings you were never taught."
Xyor listened intently on his father's words, he felt as if his mind was not his own, but that of his father. The endless number of images, sounds, and smells passed before him, the images of his mother, the Pyrefist doctrine, the separation of his mother and father, the displeased elders. The rush of information made him light headed, causing himself to shake his head vigorously to settle himself in concentration again. "Now then," his father said, "with this knowledge you should be able to truly call yourself a Pyrefist now. Do not worry about not understanding it all now, it will come in time."
"Thank you, father," Xyor said, "I wish I could take you with me, but somehow I know that's an impossibility."
"Leave quickly, it will only be a short time before others find out that you are still alive and have come here to see me. They will come after you..."
The departing words his father told him accelerated his pace, pulling of the leather and linen straps he had attached to his wings. He fanned them out, showing the tattered and torn webbing of his wings as he ran up the embedded obsidian staircase. There were no sign of the guards that had lead him in, his father was right, they were off to tell the elders of his return. Leaping into the air near the mouth of the volcanic cave he spread his wings and soared into the sky above. Flying faster than he ever had, for a day straight he bee lined across the sky back to the portal's location in the now deserted Lydenvale arena. He had managed to stay long ahead of any other Pyrefist that would attempt to keep him here. There the golden portal stood waiting for his return to Primal Earth. Passing through the portal, hearing the vacuum pop of the closing dimension behind him, returning to the calm, cold metallic world of Arachnos around him. Vernon Von Grun looked very surprised when Xyor had appeared again and said, "That was quick?"
Xyor only shrugs, giving no explanation on his supposed quick return.
Xyor now quested with the knowledge bestowed upon him by his father in finding his place on this Primal Earth. Playing by his own rules he began to pull away from the organization that originally freed him from Zigursky, Arachnos. This opened the passageway from the Rogue Isles to Paragon City. Getting a closer look at the place he was brought to, able to finally get back at his first pursuers and captors, Crey Industries. Manticore was rather surprised when Xyor walked up to him in Brickstown, bow drawn and arrow cocked, "I don't know why you're here, but I suggest that you back away."
Xyor was amused at St. Clair, "Really now, I heard you were needing some help with a Crey problem, or am I wrong?"
Re-quivering his arrow and bring his bow to his side he said, "No, you are correct, however seeing you openly want to help took me aback."
Xyor nodded, "I don't blame you at all, we've crossed paths on opposing sides more than once."
"That we have," Manticore answered, "You must have a bit of business with Crey then?"
"You could say that," Xyor said as he adjusted the linen cloth on his wrists.
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