Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-28358106-20180715001012

The soul-eating aura of Marcus bit into Tirush, and its effects were undeniable. She feels as if something has reached in her and tried to snuff out her spirit; for that one moment, she felt her connection to the Great Flame fade.

But it wasn't enough. It flares in her as before, its language thrumming in her mind, its song the same as the one heard by her people a thousand years ago. In a split second she is again able to focus, rising to her feet. A rivulet of crimson blood runs in a stream from her lips; half of her face is starting to swell, and a cut above one eye drips potent, sizzling blood that runs down her face.

But she is nowhere near tired. She no longer is going to hold herself back. She would have to get clear of Jorge, and the prison, both.

She spits blood and flecks of teeth onto the ground. She crouches and, without warning she blasts past Armata, batting the undead aside in a wake of fire.

She shoots between Barnabus and Acheron, doing the same to them. Marcus is tackled and caught in a maelstrom of claws and talons that grab him from all angles and dig into his body like white-hot blades as they fly like a horizontal meteor, smashing through countless trees and scudding along the ground. Tirush rolls and throws him, somersaulting to right herself. They have landed a half a mile away away from the prison.

She skids to a stop and stands, clenching her fists and raising them to the sky, breathing deep, the crimson flame engilfing her as the primal words strike the air and echo like thunder.

GOH

MAÁHK

YOL

Her fists plummet, shattering the earth.

The shockwave is like a bomb. The fireball explodes, white hot fire in its wake, the earth overtaken in the blink of an eye. In a circle that expands outward the ground churns and is whipped into furious magma, the lake of fire bursting as if poured onto the ground from the epicenter. Ancient pine trees topple inward and burst into immense towers of flame; boulders shriek and burst as they are instantly turned to lava, exploding as the immense heat causes the water trapped inside them to escape with violence. The inferno consumes everything in an instant, and in moments, the landscape is a nightmare.

A cloud of black smoke the size of a mountain rises, lit from below by the churning magma that stretches for a hundred yards in every direction. Geysers of magma shoot into the air in immense arcs as deep pockets of groundwater are flash heated, whipping the air that shudders with unimaginable heat.

She has done as she had promised. The land is a lake of fire. And at the center, atop a glowing mound, is Tirush.

Her blood runs, red and glowing, her scales like heated steel, her eyes slashes of fire. The Great Flame bursts around her, her muscles rolling as she throws her head back in a roar that sends geysers of magma towering into the air, her dragonfire exploding skyward as her unleashed rage is released. She stakes her challenge. She makes her claim. 

She, or the Black Dog. One of them would die today.