RP:Chaos Whelp
Ohan walks through the cave, his eyes dancing from wall to wall as silent footsteps carry him closer. The rogue reaches behind his back and pulls from his coat a sword. That from the minute it escapes the prison of its sheath begins to radiate a chaotic energy. The influence quickly races through the area and into the cave where it fills it rather rapidly. Seeming untouched, or unbothered by the feeling Ohan lurks around the corner head turned over the corner looking for sign of the dragon whelps rumored to live in the cave.
Crisien was searching for shiny things. As she was wont to do, really; she was a treasure-hunter with a serious penchant for gemstones. And gold. The latter was the reason she had trekked back up to Gheneroc's cave - the creature could turn stone into precious metal, and, well, she was hoping for some freebies. "Er, Gheneroc," she was calling into the cavern, only to have it returned as a slightly-distorted echo of her own voice.
Ohan offers a smile behind his mask as he spots two of the whelps just outside of the cave. Reaching into his pocket, he produces a small blow gun and loads it with a dart. Taking aim, he shoots the dart from his mouth sending it racing through the air then into the still soft skin of the whelp. He waits for a moment for the sleep potion to take effect before he quietly approaches, avoiding to disturb any of the others.
Crisien had left the Whelps to it. She hadn't lied to Tristram when he'd asked - she'd never killed another dragon, and neither did she intend to. Besides, they'd let her come-and-go as she pleased several times by now... she wasn't a threat to them, and likewise. That was until she heard the thing fall against the ground in response to the dart. "Hey," she barked, pivoting on her heel and sprinting back to the cavern's mouth, "What in the blazes 'ave you done t'him?!"
Ohan looked up at the sound of the voice as it echoed out. He simply raises his finger to where his mouth hides behind the mask. “Shhhhh. He's sleeping” The rogue returns his gaze back to the sleeping whelp as he gets closer and kneels down. Pocketing the blow gun, he draws out a small dagger in the process. “Test subject 181, black dragon. Young.” he moves and lifts the hind leg from the sleeping dragon and looks for a moment. “male” he then releases the leg and takes the small dagger and begins to cut a straight line. The action dosen't seem to cause the whelp any pain, as he dosen't flinch from pain. He looks up and offers a nod. “Don't worry he's fine”.
Crisien had something of a hang-up on hurting baby black dragons, given her own personal history, so she was positively seething by the time the knife had cut its flesh. "Hey," she insisted, quick-stepping her way across to her fallen kin and his aggressor, "I don't think I'd be fine if someone was pokin' -me- with a sharp knife." Without any particular hostility (at least, not yet), she stepped protectively across the whelp and peered intrusively at what Ohan was doing.
Ohan didn't stop cutting the line until a droplet of blood appeared. “Don't worry, it'll heal up before he wakes up. Won't even leave a scar.” With the line to the blood stream open, Ohan lays the sword flat along the ground. “Plus look at him.” he nods with his head as the young whelp seems to be smiling as he goes through his dream. Ohan takes the small dagger and shoves it down onto the back end of the blade. Unable to do much damage but the blunt force caused a piece of the weapon to chip off. Using his gloved hand he picks up the small piece and places it into the cut of the young whelp pushing it deep under his skin. After which he stands and backs away, as if looking over his work.
Crisien might well be content with the Whelp feeling little of what was happening - hell, she'd healed rapidly following her fight with Tristram; it was in their blood - but... she'd never had wedges of metal forced under her skin. "What're y'doin' now?" she demanded, wearing an increasingly-impatient frown. Her temper was being tested and, if she were currently wing-ed, those ridged, black wings would've been beating the air in irritation.
Ohan shrugs “Experimenting” he stands and waits watching over the sleeping whelp. “Not to positive I'd want to be standing where you are when he wakes.” and with that he picks up the sword and re sheaths it behind his back. And places the small dagger back into its sheath. “Chaos stone injected. Subject to awaken soon.” he lowers himself down into a crouch. As he does it seems as if the whelps dreams have gone from happy to horrifying as the look of pure terror crosses over the whelps face. Then after a moment, his eyes shoot open.
Crisien didn't like the word 'injected', nor did she particularly like the word 'experimenting'. "Experimenting with what?" she demanded, before back-peddling away from the whelp as it awoke. Dexterously enough, the girl clambered up the jagged cavern wall and hung, precariously, by one hand as she looked down on Ohan and the whelp. She was still expecting an answer from the former.
Ohan took a few steps back of his own. Wrapping his cloak around his form as a means of protection. The whelp awakens and stands fear riddled in his eyes as he looks around. Panic stricken the young whelp runs along the floor of the cave until it spots another whelp. As the young dragon rears his head back, he opens his mouth and sends out a roar that seems to fill the area with a high pitch scream. The scream filters through the cave adding to its intensity. Ohan covers his ears and drops down to his knees at the high volume, high pitch scream. The whelps target also drops down and turns his head as if trying to block the sound from his ears, but unable to cover both ears at once. As he turns his head trying to block out the sound a wave of frost rushes over him freezing the whelp in place and to the ground.
Crisien was still stuck to the wall, watching Ohan and the Whelp curiously. "Fix him," she barked, having watched the scene unfurl before her. Her own ears fell victim to the sound, and she scrambled her way down the wall and pressed her hands against her ears. "Fix him," she reiterated, following the ice-wave.
Ohan looks to the woman and shrugs his shoulders. “Don't know how.” he says as the dragon whelp runs up to the frozen whelp and jumps on top knocking him over. The dragon whelp then bends down and begins to rip and pull and tear at the frozen dragons throat.
Crisien had had enough. Watching the younglings scrap was irksome. So, without further ado, the girl stood up calmly, removed her satchel and snarled at Ohan. It wasn’t him that she directed her next actions at, however. Accompanied by the sound of popping joints and ripping clothes, the wiry-framed girl was soon replaced with a fully-fledged, if not slightly undersized, black dragon. In the saurian tongue, Crisien barked at the Whelps to cease their argument immediately. The warning was accompanied by a breath of fire – a warning shot, if you like – and she arched her wings above her as if to further assert her authority over the whelps.
Ohan stood by and watched. The black whelp having torn out the throat of the other whelp. Shakes his head ignoring the command of Crisien. Expanding his wings the young whelp begins a full fledged charge, and runs head first into the wall surrounding the entrance to the cave. After the first initial contact, he pulls himself back and lowers his head again and chrages into the wall once again
Crisien stretched her wings to their full span and beat them down against the air, gifting her with flight. With a roar, she flung herself between the whelp and the wall to take the impact. A comparatively giant claw, talons averted, would come down upon the whelp to stop his plight and pin him helplessly to the floor. Crisien harboured no desire to hurt him, of course, but her attention - those large, muddy-brown eyes - shot to Ohan. Opening her maw, the black dragon began the various reactions within the bowls of her throat to summon fire - fire that she'd aim directly at Ohan, should he not get out of its way. Suffice to say, the dragon was peeved.
Ohan nods his head "Hmm.. intersting. Sad the death part came early in this one... " he pauses to reflect. "Well, back to the drawing board" He turns his gaze back to Crisien "If you kill it.. you probably don't want to let his blood get on you.. I've seen it do some weird things." And with that the Rogue turns his back to the dragon and begins to take his exit.
Crisien had no intention of killing the whelp. She'd pin him until he tired of wriggling - she could be patient when she had to, despite the fact she hated being so. That breath of fire would be released after Ohan as he left, but the dragon didn't move - she stayed there, concerned for the Whelp.