Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius sensed that something was... off. The air had grown still. The stink of smoke and charred meat had grown stale.

The kneeling man did not fall.

Dragan furrowed his eyebrows, nudging the cultist over with his great-weapon, Dread.

They slumped to the ground. Though fragments of the human's skull were missing, and the pink fat underneath was exposed... only a tiny dribble of blood flowed from the grievous injury.

"Huh. That's weird," The Titanblood turned back to Tycon. "Time magic? Is there somethin' stronger than Adamantine-Rank hidden around here?"

Tycon scanned the battlefield... None of the cultists yet moved. They remained eerily still, religious fervor still frozen on their faces. Some even levitated in mid-air, caught in the middle of a run.

"Unlikely, Mister Dragan," He shook his head. "More probable is that the Reality Marble's overseer has finally had enough of our antics."

"Hmm... maybe they got bored? I coulda been a bit flashier, I guess?" Dragan sighed and dropped his weight, pomfing cross-legged on the ground, "Well, whatever. I had fun while it lasted."

A single man's slow applause echoed throughout the motionless battlefield...

"You've done... quite... well... IVORY. PRINCCCE."

A sickly green flash of magic heralded the appearance of a certain emerald-scaled Yuan-Ti.

⟬ Malik, Gold-Rank Yuan-Ti Malison. ⟭

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "Malik. I was wondering whether or not you would deign to show yourself here."

"I see you still live..." The Yuan-Ti flicked his tongue, hissing as if slaughtering his cultists somehow offended him... "Worry not. I have prepared an adequate challenge for a snake of your caliber."

Once the extraneous magical smoke began to dissipate, Tycon was granted a better view of the cobra-headed fellow.

It seemed that Malik had taken his time... dressing up.

The Yuan-Ti had donned a set of ceremonial battle armor... preposterously thin, garishly gold, and encrusted with colorful jewelry.

It seemed designed to be worn with a cravat, a thick piece of fabric tied around the neck to protect from cuts and stabs. Malik wore no such accessory, leaving the flesh of his collar and long neck exposed.

His average-sized biceps were also unguarded, though he did wear a series of golden bracelets on his wrists that... could possibly be defensible.

Slung on his back was a heavy scimitar. It looked impressive-- but unless it had a Mage Weapon enchantment, it would be far too unwieldy for the spellcaster.

Everything considered, Malik was not well-equipped for battle. He was ready to perform in a coliseum drama.

"WARRIORS!!" The cobra shouted, "Witness my GLORY in BATTLE!!"

Loud and ostentatious flashes of magic erupted around the ruined landscape... as dozens more scaled humanoids were summoned. Each of the newly summoned Yuan-Ti wore gold-trimmed armor... most of them, metal plates. Their weapons, unlike the cultists, were made of durable Tyrion steel, not brittle bone.

It seemed that Malik was a proper leader, leveraging his influence and well-trained troops. Tycon expected as much. The battle would be difficult, but he was confident in resisting the Malison's spells while whittling down groups of his soldiers.

Malik bared a fanged grin, "I've been looking forward to this... a battle between the greatest snake-blooded Prince in the Realm... and. A. GOD! And in this place, the LAWS are MINE to control as I see fit!!"

The additional condition was... most troublesome. Tycon gripped the hilt of his weapon in anticipation... He'd always wanted to kill a god.

"Look around you!" Malik raised an upward palm, gesturing at their surroundings, "HERE... non-royal blood cannot act. Your humans have NO power to help you here."

Tycon frowned, narrowing his eyes. His... humans? The humans that he'd already sent away?

"That is... Mister Malik, are you aware that you're an idiot?"

Malik returned the glare, "Your taunts have no effect on me, Ivory Prince."

Judging by the fellow's impatient voice, taunts very likely *did* work on him.

Tycon glanced to Dragan, "He doesn't know."

"He has no idea," Dragan murmured.

"ON. THIS. SUN!" Malik's magically assisted voice, echoed in the minds of everyone present, "Royal blood will fight to the death... in MORTAL COMBAT!!!"

Guilt pricked at Tycon's conscience. He had to tell him...

With an annoyed sigh, he crossed his arms and shifted his weight, "Besides the fact that you've brought all of your friends to watch you die, Mister Malik--"

"I am a PRINCE of my kind, and I will be addressed as--"

Tycon shifted the muscles in his eyes, undimming his vision, "I do not like being interrupted, young man."

⟬ ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ activating. ⟭

Malik reeled back, suddenly unable to breathe. He dropped down hard on a knee, upon the cracked human road, his face bulging and changing color, "Y... y-your... poison... does NOT... WORK... ON... MEEEE!!!!!"

Judging by the fellow's violent reaction, Tycon's poison worked just fine.

As Malik was Gold-Rank and was likely highly resistant to physical poison, Tycon's skill activation would not kill him... and its duration would be greatly reduced.

However, it seemed that Malik was unused to resisting such effects.

The man's awkward agony was most amusing.

A different magical voice echoed in Tycon's mind, one pleasant to hear but marked with mockery... "[I bet you can't do it again, Boss.]"

It belonged to Zuko.

Dragan chortled from where he was sitting, "I'll take that bet."

Tycon rolled his eyes, speaking aloud... "A second activation of ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ would have its effects drastically reduced from its already diminished effect. It would be a *waste* of mana."

"CoMe oNn, BoSss~" Dragan whispered whimsically.

"[Don't be a coward.]"

Sensing movement, Tycon glanced over to the nearest undamaged rooftop. Gobsuke had relocated.

[Commence fire,] The goblin signaled.

"Fine," Tycon hmphed. "Mister Malik."

"I am to be called, PRIN-- AH-- Hrkk..."

The Yuan-Ti had looked into Tycon's eyes once more... and... for whatever reason, fell prey to a second activation. Worse, this time, he collapsed fully, writhing amongst the debris, wracked in pain.

Tycon's mind was quickly awash with Zuko's mental laughter... and Dragan could barely contain himself, snickering and burying his face into his hands.

He looked around to see Malik's kin averting their gazes in shame. It appeared the Malison's words were true. Though they all carried weapons of war and were originally postured to fight, none had rushed forward to assist their charge.

It was unnecessarily cruel and unfair of the Yuan-Ti Prince to force his subjects to watch him fail so miserably.

Malik stood up in a roar, clenched fists raised to the sky. His form pulsed with an emerald-green ring of energy, such was his rage.

It looked somewhat impressive. Tycon approved.

...But why hadn't he done anything like that earlier?

"ROYAL BLOOD! MORTAL COMBAT! NOWWWWW!!!!" The Yuan-Ti shouted.

"Welp... Here we go," Dragan stood up from the ground to his maximum height, a little over nine fulms tall. "How ya doin', Prince Malik?"

The Yuan-Ti's eyes widened, "P-PRINCE DROGHAN? Wh-what are YOU doing here?!??"

"Hm?" Tycon raised an eyebrow, "Do you know this man, Dragan?"

"Nah," He shrugged. "We don't really trade with the far side of the Eastern States."

Dragan unstuck his heavy weapon out of the fissure in the road where'd left it, "So you're fightin' my buddy in a battle of Royal Blood? Count me in!"

"I'm assuming you're on my side, Mister Dragan," Tycon dimmed his vision to glare nonlethally at the taller man.

"Ahaha! Of... of course," Dragan looked over at a crumbled pile of building debris. "Let's... let's do it that way."

A quick burst of precisely controlled flames appeared and disappeared in a flash. The tall elf, Zuko, stood by Tycon's side.

"I don't appreciate you trying to leave me out of this," He sneered.

"Friend-cultivator," Tycon smiled. "It would honor me greatly, if you were to fight by my side."

"Right," Zuko rolled his eyes. "You there, Prince Malik. I'm joining this fight... unless you think I'm not qualified?"

"P... prince Zuko..." Malik hung his head in shame, "Of... of course."

Pathfinder Quay burst from a pile of rubble, "I wanna fight too!!"

How long had he been hiding there?

"...An... another elf? And... he can move, too?" Malik sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

"MY NAME IS QUAY!!" The dusty elf shouted, "Seven hecks, Tycon! How come none of your friends know me?"

Dragan, son of Merchant-King Ashlord was a well-known personality throughout the Realm. Then, Zuko's Hidden Sect was somewhere in the Eastern States, so it made sense that he was known to Malik, as well.

"We belong to different social circles, Quies," Tycon shrugged. "It really shouldn't be so surprising."

Tycon glanced over at the nearby rooftop.

Gobsuke responded with a pair of hand signals: [Four] and [Commence fire.]

The goblin would not be partaking in the battle. It was fine. It seemed that Tycon could defeat the Malison on his own, even without volunteered assistance.

Malik raised his serpentine head to the sky and shouted, "ANANNNTAAAAA!!!!"

In yet another burst of magic, this one dark and smoky... a Shadow Snake over twenty fulms in length appeared at Malik's side.

⟬ Ananta, Gold-Rank Shadow Snake Incanter. ⟭

"Yyyesssss?" She sang.