25 Razing the Anchor

~~~(Location:The Dothraki sea,Essos)~~~

~~~(Date:25AC)~~~

"I take that as a no, Maro?" Aerys chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. The realization dawned on Maro that Aerys had never truly expected him to comply with his outrageous demands. This had all been a twisted game.

They dueled fiercely, arakh and sword whirling in arcs of steel. Neither man gave nor asked for a quarter. This was a trial of dominance that could end in only one way.

The two fought on amidst the raging chaos, their fates and those of their gods now bound up in the churning tides of open war under the open grasslands.

The moment their arakh and sword crossed all around ceased to exist. It was as if time slowed as the champions dueled to resolve their gods' conflict once and for all.

Maro struck with savage ferocity, raining blows meant to cave in a plated chest. But Aerys spun Dark Sister before him, the Valyrian steel seeming to multiply his arms.

He parried each strike seamlessly, the arakh glancing off as if repelled. Sweat poured down Maro's brow from the effort, yet Aerys showed no strain, countering his attacks almost instantly.

It was as if the pale khal had been born to wield the blade, as comfortable with it as his own limbs. Years of experience dwelled in his fluid motions like he had fought and died a thousand lives to gain this mastery.

Seizing an opening, Maro thrust with all his strength, certain this blow would end the Outlander for good. But Aerys wasn't there - he glided to the left, steel whispering through the air mere inches from dyed braids. Before Maro could recover Dark Sister raked across his arkah arm, drawing the first rich droplets of his blood.

They broke apart, circling one another warily. dread sinking in as comprehension dawned on Maro- this demon could not be defeated by normal means.

Aerys fought without effort, without doubts, as if death held no power over him. And at that moment, Maro knew only one outcome was fated - that he would fall to Dark Sister's song this day, and the Dothraki lands become the pale that's to shepherd under new gods.

As their arakh and sword clashed again, Aerys struck with a blistering speed borne of decades of battle-honed experience. But with each blow, Maro felt the Stallion God's blessings enhancing his instincts. He began to track Aerys' movements with an intuition beyond normal skills.

Yet Aerys still landed numerous cuts and gashes that would have felled a lesser man. Maro felt no pain through the divine protection, but each hit sapped more of his waning strength. His dense form could not be pierced, but the relentless barrage took its toll.

Even with preternatural insight, Maro struggled to mount an offensive of his own.

Aerys danced around his counterblows with fluid ease, always three steps ahead. Years of handicaps fell away, replaced by a hard-earned prowess.

Maro grasped for any advantage. Crystalline visions showed him pressure points that could induce agony or paralysis, but he had no opening. Whispers coached maneuvers to exploit, yet Aerys evaded them fluidly, striking again and again.

Through it all, Maro endured through divine resilience as his own skills were pushed to the breaking point. But slowly, inevitably, the divine gifts could only sustain his faltering body for so long against such an opponent.

As the last of his strength ebbed, Maro refused to fall while an enemy yet stood. With a rage-filled roar, he called upon the full measure of the Stallion God's blessing.

His massive frame swelled even larger, corded muscles coiling beneath his skin. Jagged horns burst forth from his brow while claws tore from his fingertips. Scaly armor plated his swelling physique like an immense beast poised to do battle.

Aerys did not retreat or show fear - he simply gazed up at Maro's transformed state in awed fascination. Such a divine manifestation was a rare spectacle, It was unfortunate that Aerys had no similar boons at his command. 

While the primal visage was monstrous indeed, Aerys was not deterred. If anything, he seemed to relish the opportunity to test his prowess against an opponent empowered to such a peak degree. Where others might flee, Aerys saw only another challenge to surmount.

Maro panted heavily, the transformation having drained what little remained of his vigor. But for the first time, he sensed an opening with Aerys momentarily transfixed. The prince, however, was not keeping his hand out of caution.

As Aerys studied the nightmarish incarnation before him, a gleam entered his violet eyes. He realized that slaying the Khal in this weakened yet divinely augmented state would be all the sweeter. The greater the divine aid, the greater the prize in absorbing such essence.

With prey so thoroughly spent yet bolstered to new heights, the hunter closed in for the finishing blow. The game was reaching its climax, and Aerys intended to emerge the ultimate victor in every way.

Aerys sprang forward with blistering speed, Dark Sister whistling toward Maro's heart. But the massive Khal now moved with surprising agility. He sidestepped and swung a claw in a vicious backhand, coming perilously close to cleaving Aerys in two.

Undaunted, the Targaryen ducked low and rolled beneath Maro's guard. Coming up inside his reach, Dark Sister stabbed upward seeking a chink in the scaly armor. But the divine hide was impenetrable, and Aerys' blade glanced off with a shimmer of magic.

Maro reacted with lightning reflexes, seizing Aerys by the armor's rim and lifting him high. With a roar, he hurled the prince away like a rag doll. But Aerys twisted in the air, landing in a crouch some distance off.

He charged again, weaving under flailing claws that could rend fortified gates to splinters. Dark Sister left countless nicks and gashes along Gabriel's thickening hide, yet none pierced deep. Aerys was the darting gnat, striking from every angle, evading each subsequent blow that could crush an armored battalion.

Seizing the initiative, Maro lashed out and caught Aerys on the backswing. With a heave, he slammed the prince repeatedly into the blighted earth, leaving a furrowed trench behind. On the fifth impact, Aerys went limp—only for his limbs to coil tightly around Gabriel's wrist.

Dark flames burst outward, engulfing the Khal in a searing dragonfire. Maro bellowed in anguish but did not relent his grip. With fury borne of failing divinity, he smashed Aerys into the dirt once more, extinguishing the flames.

Aerys rolled aside just as a clawed foot the size of a Warhammer descended. The ground shattered on impact, flinging Aerys back but leaving him alive. He smiled through bloodied teeth, invigorated by the challenge, as Maro loomed over him, ready to end their clash.

Maro swung with deadly intention, but Aerys launched himself between the Khal's thick legs in a blur of motion. Before the hulking form could turn, Aerys scrambled up Maro's armored back like a spider.

With an enraged bellow, Maro tried to dislodge his smaller opponent, bucking and flailing in vain. Aerys climbed nimbly until perched upon his monstrous shoulders. There, he grabbed two jutting horns and heaved with all his waning strength.

Off-balance, Maro toppled forward with an earthshaking impact. But he rolled with preternatural speed, claws lashing to catch Aerys in his grasp. The prince released a horn just in time, instead clinging to the top of Maro's upraised arm.

Aerys summoned every remaining ember of strength within. With a bestial scream of exertion, he launched himself at Maro's open jaws, Dark Sister stabbing down into the gaping maw like a spear.

The Valyrian steel sank hilt-deep down Maro's throat. His enraged bellow descended into a gurgling howl of agony as fangs crushed the blade within.

Aerys withdrew in shock, staring numbly at the jagged hilt in his hand. Dark Sister, one of House Targaryen's two remaining Valyrian blades, was destroyed.

"Impossible..." he muttered in disbelief. Nothing should have been able to damage such steel, much less shatter it entirely.

His thoughts turned to his mother's rage. She treasured Dark Sister above all family possessions. To have lost and broken the sword in single combat stirred a pit in Aerys' stomach.

"What will I tell her?" he said aloud, despair creeping into his voice. She had entrusted him with the blade, thinking its power and magic indestructible.

Now he held only worthless shards of the sword that was his by right. Worse, it meant the Targaryens were down to a single Valyrian steel weapon.

Aerys whirled to where Maro writhed in agony, his massive form growing still. Through the black blood bubbling from his destroyed throat, Aerys cried "What magic allowed this? What dark trick allowed you to destroy Valyrian steel with your wretched jaws?"

Maro gurgled weakly in response, claws grasping at the jagged hole where his throat had been.

Aerys leaned in close, smiling despite his disbelief and dismay. "Speak up man, I cannot understand your mumbling. Did you swallow a dragon by mistake? Perhaps a vial of wildfire before our duel? Or mayhaps...a Valyrian steel blade?"

The Khal let out a wretched wheeze that may have been intended as a snarl.

"Aha! Don't try to deny it now," Aerys said with mock accusation. "I always knew you Vaes Dothraki types had a taste for our blades. But to devour one whole - what were you thinking? No wonder your guts are stronger than Dark Sister!"

The Khal let out a wretched wheeze that may have been intended as a snarl.

Chuckling grimly, Aerys traced a finger through the pooling black blood at Gabriel's lips. "Now now, no need for hostility. I simply wish to know what foul concoction lined your gullet to chew through my poor sword. Mother will surely flay me for losing it, you realize."

Maro twitched feebly, rapid blinking the only response left in his shattered body.

After what felt like an eternity, Maro's spasms began to weaken. His divine wrath had sustained this mortal form to heroic lengths, but the grievous wound was too deep. As the last of his strength drained away, Gabriel reverted slowly back to human form.

Maro's transformation ceased, and his divine wrath abated for now. Panting, he surveyed the battlefield - the fighting had ended long ago. His bloodriders lay still upon the trampled grasses, the remaining Dothraki seemingly content to watch the confrontation unfold.

Meleys had also stopped her onslaught some time past, but still harried Maro's treasured steed Odin through the skies, snapping fearsome jaws that came dangerously close to engulfing the nimble stallion whole with each pass. 

Aerys approached Maro. "You have lost," he stated plainly. "It was easier than I expected, though I thought you might prove more difficult." He shrugged. "Submit to me, and help me take Mereen. I wish to make it my new home, now that my father has exiled me."

Maro sighed wearily. "And what of Vaes Dothraki? Will you destroy the mother of cities?"

"As long as you listen and serve me well, I see no need," Aerys replied evenly. "Though I will also require your horse, to ensure you do not try to escape my rule."

His tone held no malice or gloating - the merely factual acknowledgment of the changing tides and new order that would be imposed upon the Dothraki if they did not accede. All hung on Maro's response.

Maro understood that should he fall, the Great Stallion would have no choice but to expend what little essence remained to manifest one final champion. But with reserves already depleted from the losses of this day, the deity would be unable to endow the next agent with even a fraction of His once mighty power.

A weak champion doomed to likely failure would only hasten the Great Stallion's consumption by oblivion. Without a devotee strong enough to reignite widespread worship, the dwindling prayers and offerings could never restore the divine energy keeping Him tethered to the mortal realm.

Maro knew his death would leave his patron divinity stranded at the threshold of extinction, the next champion sent as a mere placeholder before the inevitable consuming dark. Only Maro's survival offered any hope of amassing enough strength and followers to pull the Great Stallion back from the void's edge.

The defeat was not a mere personal demise - it would cut loose the final frail thread tethering the protector of the plainsfolk to existence. Maro understood fully that his life represented the Great Stallion's sole remaining chance to forestall the eternal void, and he could not fail in that sacred duty no matter the cost.

Maro approached Aerys with head bowed, yet inwardly steeled his will like tempered steel. No torment or humiliation could break his spirit while the Great Stallion's final fate hung in the balance. He would pay any price of flesh or pride required to keep drawing breath until an opportunity arose.

Serving the enemy was a bitter draught, but surviving within Aerys' court granted proximity. In close quarters, an unguarded moment could present the chance to slay his oppressor and reclaim freedom. Until then, Maro schooled his features and lent a facade of broken compliance while his mind remained as fierce as khala grass.

The Stallion Lord's remaining champion would let no fate deter him from prolonging his deity's existence, even if it meant enduring unspeakable indignities with the patience of stone. While life remained, hope remained - as did the possibility of reversing all through one well-placed strike. Maro would live to see the Great Stallion rise again, or die trying.

Aerys Targaryen POV:

Aerys gazed down at the bowed Maro, able to almost read the idiot's mind like an open book. Beneath the veneer of defeat, fury and the lust for vengeance roiled within the Dothraki lord.

But poor Maro didn't realize Aerys was five steps ahead. As one who had played the game of thrones in King's Landing, the exiled prince understood that loose ends could not be tolerated once a new regime was secured.

Aerys had no intention of keeping the proud and unpredictable Maro alive once Mereen was conquered. The Khal's wounded pride would make him forever prone to rebellion, throwing everything Aerys had built into chaos at the first sign of weakness.

No, Maro's "submission" was but a temporary solution until a more...permanent end could be arranged. Aerys smiled inwardly, already planning the khal's gruesome fate.

As Aerys observed the khal bow before him, a gleam entered his violet eyes. He sensed the divine essence burning strongly within Maro and his winged stallion.

Aerys licked his lips, already salivating at the prospect of consuming such potent energies. With the magic in his blood, he knew the divine essence could be absorbed and channeled to further his own.

All champions embodied distinct divine essences. It should be possible for a champion to strengthen themselves by absorbing the essence of another champion.

Champions derived their power directly from the gods they represented. Absorbing another could allow a champion to take on new divine aspects and attributes to increase their own abilities.

He and Meleys envisioned with relish the moment when Aerys would slay Maro and his winged mount himself, consuming their divine essences in the process. This assimilation of divine might will awaken new heights within Aerys' valerian lineage.

As for Vaes Dothraki, it was doomed the moment Maro lost. No champion in their right mind will let anything stop them from destroying their enemies' most sacred spiritual site, inflicting a critical hit against the targeted god.

The fates of champions and gods are eternally intertwined on the divine plains. When powerful mortal vessels are selected to represent higher powers in the physical realm, any clash between them holds implications that resonate in the celestial spheres.

Maro's defeat signified more than a personal fall - it was a toppling that would shake the very heavens. As the champion of the Great Stallion, his loss portended catastrophe for the deity he embodied. For no true champion defending their patron's interests could tolerate the desecration of holy ground.

Sacred sites anchor a god's presence in the mortal realm. They are tunnels through which ethereal power from believer faith flows into the gods. To defile such hallowed places is to drive a spear into the heart of divinity itself. No blow inflicts deeper wounding.

Even in victory, a usurping champion knows the vanquished will thirst only for reprisal. With his enemy's life spared, the chance remains for sacred ground to be reclaimed, and divine influence reasserted once more. The surest way to cripple an adversary forever is to raze their most sacred of sanctums.

By razing holy Vaes Dothraki, Aerys sought to cut the Great Stallion off at the source of his earthly strength. Without anchors in the mortal realm, a god's celestial essence thins and starves. Over millennia their very memories of creation fade until only the faintest shadows linger in the outer realms of spirit.

A champion's ultimate duty is safeguarding the integrity of their patron above all physical costs. Maro's fate was sealed the moment he failed this holy mandate, for none could restrain the righteous wrath of the vanquisher's champion from delivering the deathblow where it cuts deepest - against the TARGETED god's fading ethereal essence.