Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

"Ah, here it is! The so-called indomitable spirit of life! You shall make for a nice addition to the king's ranks… That also goes for you" Dracula seemed to be speaking all by himself, standing upon the back of a majestic dragon infected by his blood, his draconic flock had been brought back to its prime and elevated even higher.

Under his command, dragons of his blood, as well as dragons infected by his fellow vampire lords, a little minority that he was still trusted with leading into battle, no one was better placed to rule over the mythical creatures, than the one titled Son Of Dragon.

His cloak fluttered chaotically in the winds, even as the beast below his feet twisted and spun, he did not move a millimeter, arms crossed, he lifted one hand, causing the entirety of his flock to cease all actions, flapping their wings, retaining their position, using the mastery over his blood, Dracula lifted himself up in the air, higher than the very tip of the life pyramid, a pale blue shape approaching rapidly.

Ever so casually bringing his hands behind his back, Dracula, his noble disposition, sharp features and unwavering gaze fell upon the destitute king of the frozen peaks, Svaltimas, the last living dragon of pure blood in Tamaris, although more wyvern-like in appearance, he was not to be mistaken with them.

The frost dragon had changed quite a lot since his last apparition, covered in wounds, fiercer-looking, the draconic wrath nesting beyond his gaze was almost tangible, having gone through countless fights and confrontations, he had not gotten what he wanted, but was still very much willing to go through on his own.

"If I am not mistaking you with an ancestor of yours, you must be the little youngling that managed to escape during the last war, you must have grown a fair bit since then, right?" Dracula was not impressed, even though the old lord of the mountains may have lost his territory, he had not lost in strength, in fact, the trials he had put upon himself had allowed him to grow stronger than ever, like a real dragon, he had been a force to be reckoned with from pretty much birth, but only by being put through the grinder that was the wild would a dragon blossom into a threat worthy to take on entire lands.

"Dracula, Son Of Dragon, slaughterer of my kind! Your renown failed to go beyond the reaches of Viridis, the dragonlords of Dragonnerie laughed at the possibility of being under any kind of threat" Svaltimas spat with much vitriol, the temperature all around taking a serious hit.

The dominion of King Nitok had never gotten beyond Viridis, the holy crusade of death had yet to fall upon any other continent.

"Ah, did you try to rally Dragonnerie to come to your aid?

I can already guess the sort of welcome you were given, outsiders are not seen in great light, neither are half-breeds… There is no assistance to be found outside of yourself, so I assume that you must be thinking that you can best me?" rising his chin, his haughty attitude did not fail to get on the nerves of the enraged dragon, the boiling blood coursing unfit for his frigid constitution.

Dragons were simultaneously well-known, and yet unknown in nature, wrathful, proud, powerful, territorial, hoarders, belligerent, calm-seeking, they were considered to have a range of emotions and goals not unlike that of man.

But Dracula knew the truth about them, in all of their different flavours, the freezing roar of Svaltimas washed over him, the lord's blood igniting with flames, resisting the cold.

"Look at you, jumping in to come to the rescue of humans, elves and other beastkins… The lone ruler of the mountains, who once had countless worshippers, you used to be considered godly, divine! Now… You masquerade as a champion of life, when I am standing right there!

Settle down, and accept death, become a ruler of greater frozen mountains, who knows, maybe you'll one day stand alongside me as a gravelord" like most undeads would do, Dracula gave a grand speech about life and death, the latter's inherent superiority, and the former's many shortcomings.

King Nitok was a mage at heart, and thus a collector as well, it did not sit right with the Prince Of Death to not make a little bit of everything a part of his rule, this wish would reflect within his gravelords as well.

"I will not fall for the words of a man playing as a dragon!" with a deafening roar, Svaltimas unleashed a breath of cold fog, unimaginable frost emerging from within the depth of his guts, shards of ice manifested within the surrounding air.

Flaming blood shaped itself into a circular shield, protecting the vampire lord from the attack, whose composure was unshaken, even when facing a great dragon, no expression of focus or attention crawled up on his face.

Red eyes shimmering with fiery glow, he shook his head, a pleasant smile on his face, like a parent having to repeat words already given to the older ones to the youngest child.

"Svaltimas, do listen attentively" he raised his index finger up, the other hand guiding streams of blood carrying a dark red inferno upon their backs.

"A man can become anything, be it a dragon or otherwise, a dragon however, will never become a man"

"There is no point in imitating those walking the ground below, being a dragon is all that you need, so do think hard about it Svaltimas… What is best, being a dragon for some time, or being a dragon eternally?" the smug smile, it drove the frost dragon mad, there was no point in trying to convince him.

He was here for one thing, and one thing only, crush the ignoble corpses that still dared to walk the earth, who had trampled upon his mountains and changed them, built their terrible forts upon their peaks and hollowed them out, converting all of the inhabitants to their side.

"Face me undead lord! Put your words upon your blade!" bursting with frost, the cacophony of the flying undeads below began again, the vampiric dragons seemed to enter some sort of rage, the former mountain lord felt it in his heart and upon his bloodied hide, like a clap of thunder, a rumbling washed through the area, the frost melting into burning steam.

Four wings extended, four legs, scales of black and red, grand spikes lining the spine, horns coiling around the uppermost portion of his long neck, three blood red eyes on each side of the face. Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire

"Once I am done with you, as per our Luminary King foresaw, I will breach the pyramid"

Regal.

Svaltimas had no other word on his mind, Dracula's voice only commanded respect and allegiance.

Shrouded with his bloody flame, the gravelord roared, sending chills throughout the entirety of Tamaris, the dragons under his command replying with their own.

Roaring back, the last living dragon of Viridis did not crumble under the pressure, flying upward with all of his strength, his size much lesser than that of the vampire when in this form.

Dracula gave chase.