Breaking Expectations

The tiefling stands tall on the edge of a cliffside despite his less than intimidating stature. His short mange of jet black hair catches the gust of sickly sweet air coming from the forest township behind him. Blood is on the wind, mixed with the honey of flowers. War is here and all he can do is draw a big smile on his face and clutch the haft of his heavy maul. His own battle will start soon. A worthy opponent in his path of strength and power.
Beyond him nothing but Arhor'ha wilderness that has been tainted by the touch of green dragon's corruption. It is a dragon he aims to kill. If the day favors him, then perhaps two dragons will fall to him, a short tiefling. A Breaker. A king among kings. "Come on you dumb fuck," his red eyes squint out to the horizon to look for the flying beast. It should be easy to find, but there is none to be seen. Green dragons are cunning. Ozymandius would see this as cowardice.
"So eager to die," says a voice that Ozy was not expecting. White hair. Questionably better set of horns on him. Unquestionably better grin.
"I know what I'm doing and I don't have time for your shit," Ozy flicks his eyes from the white haired devil to the sky. Any minute now. C'mon.
"Sure you do," the devil known as Gig says, hopping up and standing on the head of Ozy's maul. The angry tiefling shakes it, but to no avail the devil sticks to it. "Arrrghhh," Ozy rumbles with the deep rage that runs through his veins in a hot flash.
"Though," Gig says as he looks thoughtfully upwards while the young tieflings attempts to remove him from the maul, "someone is late." A clone of the short devil appears behind Ozy. His burning coal eyes set in the charred expanse of his face as he leans in to whisper, "Looks like there will be two Devils on your shoulder today." The Gig on Ozy's weapon hops off, settling to either side of him. Where they would best be the voice of benevolence to balance out the voice of temptation, there is only temptation and his echo. Someone who should be here is not and there is hell to pay.
"Its sweet, really," one of the two Gigs say, "for them to offer you up like this to save other people they /care/ about." Gig Two pats Ozy on his shoulder, "but I'm here for you, champ."
"To offer me a deal," Ozy scoffs, "save your breath. There isn't anything you are offering that I want. I can get it all with these two hands."
Gig One take out some deliciously roasted legumes and munches on them. He starts throwing them into the other Gig's mouth as a mini-game as he tells Ozy, "No no no. Someone has to bear witness to your badassery. Its a real sin not to have an audience. Just a shame that your good friend Astroix isn't here." With his mouth full of food, Gig Two says, "Guess random people are more important than the deep bond you formed." Gulp. "Ahhh, Syn is understandable. You'd never hold a candle to Solus. Even her bestie Alexa is second or third fiddle to that precious little girl. Alexa /probably/ sees this as a means for you to go kill yourself."
Ozy stares at Gig One and Gig Two. A single Gig is bad enough, two of them is downright obscene.
"But I've seen it. Technically Paulo saw it, but lets not split hairs into the wonderful world of fate, mm?" Gig One says as he debates the finer points of his questionable sanity. Both Gigs stare back at Ozy, "I don't have to do anything at all. He isn't here. It... neatly sorts itself out. Heh."
"The fuck are you going on about," Ozy points his maul at Gig One, "lording over some bullshit 'look at me, I know things' like I give a fuck." The maul's heavy tip points to Gig Two next, "What, you think I'm going to start sniveling a 'oh no, will I win' 'will people like me' 'please help me, Gig'." That right there. He knows who the Devil is. The weakness he prays upon. The options he opens up. "You ain't shit. Just a big fish in a little pond."
"The pond you are stuck in," Gig One replies nonchalantly granting that point to Ozy, passing his bag of legumes to Gig Two. "You are so very, very smart. You don't need a deal. A deal is an exchange. You are going to give me something, free of charge. Nothing in return. Then," Gig Two points behind Ozy to the sky, "you are going to do something for me to get it back." Ozy spins around to see the shadow of a dragon flying this way. "Tick," Gig One says, "Tock," finishes Gig Two.
Without warning the dragon swoops down from the sky. The town's defenses are tested and prove to be inactive against dragons. Nothing stands between the angry open maw of the flying behemoth and the stinging toxic breath as he billows the area that Ozy stands on in thick green fog.
The black haired tiefling coughs violently. "Fuck," he spurts out, eyes stinging so red that the whites of his eyes match his crimson iris. "Get," he coughs, "down here." Only the silhouette of the dragon can be seen against the fumes.
"Have hope," a voice is heard in Ozy's head. Its familiar but different. Healing flows within him as a priestess far away offers her aid to the battle.
Seconds turn to minutes as the cunning dragon bides his time for the enemies to perish from the poison. He descends onto the ground like a proud wolf, claws raking through the grass that has turned primal and mutant. Eyes search for the corpse. There should be a corpse. The ground quakes beneath his feet as the tail slides in reptilian amusement.
The silence breaks when Ozy leaps from one of the trees with his maul swinging down onto the beast's shoulders. A loud crack fractures the wing as a shrill cry of pain roars from the angry dragon. "Insolent pest!" it growls, swiping the insolent tiefling like a rat across the battlefield. His small yet mighty frame rolls like a bag of potatoes across the mutated grass several feet away.
"You dare strike me," the dragon says, "your superior?" Ozy stands up, looking up to the adult dragon that now is before him. He imagined this was the moment of glorious battle that should have started. The tiefling replies, "Superior bitch, you mean. I had to break your wings just to get you to fight me." He grips his maul, the sturdy wood crackling in his tight grip as the stone head practically hums with ire for dragonkind. It glows against the sick green mist. "I am Ozymandius, king among kings, and I'll have your head as proof of my station."
The dragon attacks, leaving a large gash on Ozy's chest even with the brace for impact. "Hah! You are just a child with a toy. I am Garrote, the eldest of Vyne's brood. To you?" the second swipe comes down heavy, crashing into the ground where the fighter once was. "I am a god."
An ear splitting cry come from Garotte, the green dragon, as Ozy slams his maul hard down on his exposed clawed hand. Scale and bone cracks as the raw energy of the maul ripples in hot blue light. "Some god," Ozy grins broadly, stomping his boot on the wounded limb before leaping up and cracking soundly into the dragon's face. It causes him to reel back. He bleeds.
"You can't fly away from me," Ozy says as he lands on the ground, "You can't defeat me. All you can do. Is. DIE." In a primal scream, Ozy rushes in with his dragonbane maul. His eagerness turns to be his downfall as the dragon rears his massive frame back onto his hind legs. Like a tidal wave coming down on a small child, Garrotte returns back to he earth, a single good claw crashing onto Ozy's chest and imprisoning him onto the ground beneath the dragon's talons.
The dragon lowers his head to be inches to Ozy who is restrained under hundreds of pounds of draconic muscle. "A powerful toy," the reptilian head says in gutteral sickness, "but without that toy, you are just a child. An angry, helpless, child." Teeth like swords bite off Ozy's hand and the maul attached with it. The tiefling tries not to scream in pain and it comes out in a wave of defiant sound as he bleeds from his handless wrist.
Crunch. Crunch. Gulp.
"For harming me," Garrote says, "for daring to go beyond your station, I will see you die slow and painful." The dragon grins slowly squeezing Ozy's body and causing his infernal blood to pour out the exposed wound.
"You," Ozy sputters out, "are a fucking... idiot."
"What was that," the dragon asks, laughing at the brass on this kid.
"I said," Ozy's red eyes stare at Garrotte as he transcends his limits and evokes his maul, "you are a fucking idiot." Blue light spills out from Garrote's mouth. His eyes. The light begins to pierce through his abdomen from the inside. Before he realizes that he just ate a bomb, Garrote attempts to cough it up. It is too late. Half of his body is blasted into debris of blood, meat, and bone.
Catching his breath, Ozy draws away from his imprisonment. Wearily he goes to the gaping hope in the dragon's chest. Still alive. Still breathing. Both of them. The tiefling goes to reclaim his weapon from the gore but only finds his hand still attached to a head-less haft. Just a stick of wood. "Fuck, you broke my favorite maul," he says, putting his hand back onto his stump of a wrist. Ice wraps around his hand, turning it blue and freezing it into place to set.
Fear flickers through Garrotte's eyes. Escape. He must get away. Heal.
"I don't think so," Ozy says, tossing the wooden stick aside as he grabs the dragon by his head, "I am Ozymandius, king among kings, and you, motherfucker are BROKEN." In a single pull, Ozy rips the dragon's head off as the scene of bloody battle begins to shred into thin grass blades of deep green. Every inch of the dragon's body is shredded, leaving the head for last. All of that energy surges and draws into Ozy, who falls to his knees.
"Aghh," Ozy seeths.
"Hi again," Gig says, tilting around the corner of Ozy's vision to look the Breaker over. "Great display. Bravo." He taps on Ozy's shoulder as energy ripples off him, unstable.
"What the fuck did you do to me," grimaces the foul mouthed warrior.
Gig straightens up, "Nothing I didn't warn you about, I assure you. You see, you took too much in. Win win for Jacob. Either the dragon wins and you die. Or you win, you can't absorb all his energy, and you die." Gig slowly leans in to be nose to nose with Ozy, "Get it?"
Ozy holds onto his body like a person doing too many shots tries to hold onto the contents of their stomach. "What do you want?" he grits his teeth.
"Ah. No deal, no sir. Not today. Busy deal day, kiddo," Gig straightens back up. "But, I am accepting donations to the Bank of Gig. Care to store away some of this all powerful energy?"
"Fine," Ozy states, "take it, but I want it back."
"Im sure you do," Gig replies, extending a hand and drawing out everything Ozy worked so hard for. It leaves the young man drained and short of breath. The devil leans down to Ozy, close enough to whisper to him, "And I'll always be there to hold onto all this 'excess' for you. You can have it back at any time, but you have to do something first."
Ozy doesn't need to ask. He waits in silence to hear what the conditions are.
"Break Paulo Mysidi."