Chapter 4: RD-05

RD-05 

Jafaar arrived and nodded to Gaston as Gaston finished his official audience with the Dragon and began to talk more casually.  

"You should have seen that Noble's whiskers when we barged into his bed chambers and took his very last pleasure-whelp. He said he would complain to the king. We told him that he was free to complain to the Dragon!" Gaston laughed. Sean did as well, although it came out as a barking roar that Twilight assured everyone was laughter.  

"Sounds like you had fun," Jafaar commented, reaching out to adjust Gaston's gold and ruby chain so that it laid over one shoulder and one hip. The irregular pattern of smashed and melted gold covering an evenly distributed base of rubies was breathtaking. "I did not see anything in the capital as magnificent as this," Jafaar declared. "With this alone, your family will have the wealth and prestige of a Noble."  

"You think?" Gaston said, looking embarrassed and scratching the back of his head. "I was thinking it more a badge of office than a family heirloom. I don't want to be a Noble. I just want to serve the Dragon. Every day is a joy."  

"Can you believe Sean can just create works of art like this?" Twilight said, speaking for herself instead of Sean, "It was crafted with real Dragonfire! Father has nothing like this! Oh, Gaston, you're in, by the way."  

Gaston looked confused, "In?"  

"Yup. In the inner circle. First name basis with the Dragon. Sean watches you from above and sees you work hard. He hears complaints about how loyal you are even when the Dragon isn't looking. Most of all, he likes your dirty jokes." Even Jafaar laughed at that.  

"I think I'll leave that last part out when I tell the wife!" Gaston remarked, beaming.  

"If Sean told you to raise an army against the King, what would you do, Warden Gaston?" Jafaar suddenly asked.  

"Then I would raise an army for our great Dragon," Gaston said without hesitation, drawing his sword for emphasis, "I would also offer to slay the foolish king myself to avoid unnecessary loss of life. How stupid must a person be to oppose their own Dragon? Ah, no offense, Princess."  

"None taken," she assured him, "I would only ask the chance to talk father down myself, first, if it comes to that."  

"Of course," Gaston agreed, "But what is up with this seditious talk? By sedition I mean against the Dragon, of course. Is not Humanity united under the Great- under Sean?"  

"Not yet," Jafaar replied grimly, "The nobles are torn between a desire to be close to Sean's power and the King's wealth. Except for Princess Twilight, Princess Dawn, and First Prince Rafael, who have actually seen the Dragon, the rest of the Royals and semi-royal Nobles want to just pretend dragons don't exist. It's ludicrous. There's even talk of creating a new pleasure-whelp training town, even though Sean personally shut down the first one." The temperature of the air around the Dragon suddenly spiked and the blue/green luminescence under his skin from where he had been healed by the Druidic Mosser's antibiotic fungus began to glow.  

(The whelps?) Sean asked.  

"I assume you are asking what happened to the pleasure-whelps in training after you shut down the village?" Jafaar guessed, also clarifying things for Gaston who couldn't read Sean's signs.  

(Yes.) Sean agreed.  

Jafaar Whiskered rage, "Sold. Every single whelp in every stage of training. One or two were sold to their own families, but the vast majority of their families were uninterested or couldn't afford it. I hear partially trained whelps actually sold for MORE, due to the rarity."  

The temperature in the air spiked further and Twilight cried out, "Sean! Breathe up!" Sean took a deep breath and held it, trying to get control of his draconic rage. After 10 seconds, he let it out slowly, and twin plumes of white smoke trailed from his nostrils into the sky.  

(Sorry,) he signed. (Fire breath still new).  

Princess Twilight whiskered a reassuring smile, "But you've already gotten so much better at it!" As he breathed out, the lines of luminescence in his arms, legs, and back spread, covering far more than the original wounds.  

"So THAT is what that smoke is..." Gaston said in awe.  

"No need to apologize for righteous draconic fury," Jafaar claimed with conviction, "...But perhaps an extra layer of fireproofing for this city would be a good idea."  

"I was thinking the same thing," Gaston agreed, nodding, "By the way... when and how did our Dragon shut down the pleasure-whelp town?"  

"When he crushed it's Warden to death, the town just kind of...  folded up. Consider it the price of failure, Gaston." Twilight said with spooky look on her whiskers.  

"Of-of-course," Gaston agreed, swallowing. Twilight burst into laughter when Sean snapped and signaled her to hush.  

(Now she teases me back) the Dragon complained.  

"Is it love?" Jafaar teased with an Uncle-y grin.  

"I sure hope so..." Twilight said, looking up at Sean shyly. She gave an exaggerated sigh when Sean changed the subject. 

(My warden is better).  

"I agree," said Twilight, perking back up, "That creepy guy touched me when I was little. Glad he's gone."  

(I can see why he did) Sean teased, stroking her tail, making her blush and cover her face.  

"Seaaaan, not in front of my Uncle," she whined, cutely.  

"So... when are you taking my niece as your bride?" Jafaar asked mischievously.  

(When are you?) the Dragon fired back.  

"Ah, you heard about that. Personally, I am against arranged marriages and arranged breeding, even to cultivate Occultist offspring. Except to Dragons, of course."  

"I feel so left out..." Gaston complained.  

"Well then, let's teach you the sign language, mister Gaston!" Twilight offered cheerfully. 

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"So, you couldn't breathe fire before you came to our forest? Even though you're a dragon?" Before I came to your world, Sean thought. But he lacked the signing vocabulary to express it. Previously, he would have said he wasn't a Dragon, either. But here he was, breathing fire and somehow not harming himself. Perhaps this world is turning him into a Dragon. He was starting to feel like one.  

It was hour seven at Sean's slowest walking pace and even Twilight was getting bored. Sean and Twilight were escorting a massive caravan of carriages and open-bed vehicles. They were accompanied by half the garrison of "Sean's Respite" and all 25 occultists that currently lived there. They hit two towns already, picking up the rest of the transportation vehicles and some of the materials. They were circling back around to hit the former pleasure-whelp-training town to pick up the majority of the materials. Sean used the sign that meant "It's hard to explain."  

"Ughhh, you use that sign too much, you lazy Dragon!" Twilight smacked and tickled his ear with her tail, trying to annoy him. He supposed she was right.  

(Before come, not Dragon).  

"Wait, what? Then what were you?"  

(...It's hard to explain)  

"Gah!" She batted him in the face with her tail, this time. "You're so mysterious!" He tried, but failed, to catch her tail in his mouth. He wanted to see her reaction if he did.  

They finally arrived at their destination, but it was unrecognizable. Except for a small, defensible area, the entire city had been demolished into base materials. He glanced around, kind of hoping a pleasure-whelp had escaped and needed rescuing. He decided that he would take any he saw with him today, but had no luck. He wasn't quite at the level of a dragon raiding villages and taking/rescuing young women, but he felt that day was coming.  

"Whoa, getting warmer up here. Thinking about something that makes you mad, my Dragon?" Twilight gave him gentle scratches on the scalp with her special claws and it felt amazing, actually calming his rage. His only answer was to sign (I like you.) and then it was Twilight that got warmer. She didn't stop the scratches, though. Sean thought about offering to help load the supplies, but decided he would just get in the way. The squirrels were very good at working together and being productive, perhaps because of their enhanced empathy. And he was just too darned big. So, he did his job and stood guard.  

He commented on the variety of animals, but Twilight insisted that most were actually hiding, afraid of Sean. He wondered how the slow-moving squirrels ever escaped the Titans to travel between towns. The answer was that they didn't. If a pride of Titans was known to be active, no one left their homes except for stealthy, risky hunters, or merchants willing to risk it all to make a fortune off of the current supply and demand. It only took around 30 minutes for the frightened, Dragon-stalked caravan to take the trip from the House of the Young to the conveniently close by pleasure-whelp-training town the first time, but after 2 hours of loading an impressive amount of materials (enough to build an entire second city, Sean thought) it took six times longer for the slow, uneventful trip back. Princess Twilight fell asleep in Sean's hair despite claiming that she absolutely wouldn't.  

It was dark when Sean made it home, and the "Dragon's Road" was lit up with torches like a runway. He was glad that the squirrels didn't make the mistake of thinking Dragons could see in the dark. He had accidentally stepped on someone once (Twilight's brother Edward) and he didn't want to repeat the experience, although he was sure he could play it off as "Divine Draconic Judgement" without even trying. He didn't want to wake up the town, but he supposed that living in a city with a Dragon meant accepting certain living conditions. Plenty of squirrels had waited up for his return, anyway. His wiggled his fingers at a group of whelps that had gotten permission to wait for him in town, past their bedtime in The House of the Young, and they waved hands and tails back, excited.  

When he reached the great empty circle that was his home, he woke Twilight up, crouching down towards the torchlight so she could read his signs. He asked her to clear his path of rescued whelps so he could lay down; ashamed of having fallen asleep, she jumped to her new mission. She succeeded, waking up or just shoving all the whelps out of the way, except for both Dawn and the whelp he had personally rescued from pleasure whelp training, who linked tails, dug in, and refused to move from where they knew his head would lay. He went ahead and lay down on his stomach, resting his head on his crossed arms in front of him, the position he felt most stable in and least likely to crush a squirrel. He lay on his right elbow, and inside his left Dawn, Dawn2 (as he had come to think of her as she seemed similarly loyal-from-being-saved and he didn't yet know her real name), and for once, Twilight (evening and night duty was usually Dawn's), all snuggled together against his arm and face, and he fell asleep staring at the luminescent blue-green lines that covered most of his forearms. The many rescued whelps slept on his back and legs. 

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In the morning, the Dragon was inconsolable. Princess Twilight felt his sorrow as if it were her own, even though the Dragon had no whiskers. During the night, one of his rescuees that had never seemed to start to recover had died quietly in her sleep. The Dragon held her furry little body, smaller than his hand, and wept tears that sparked into bursts of electricity when they dripped from his face and hit the earth. His harem of whelps wept with him, silently pushing their faces and tails into his legs to comfort him. Sean wanted Jafaar to explain things to him, but the old squirrel was again at the capital, attempting to affect change in squirrel society and push the Path of the Earth.  

The Arch-Druidic Mosser, Frodo (Sam, the former Arch-Mosser who had sacrificed his skin to heal Sean had passed, becoming a legendary hero himself) with Twilight translating, answered Sean's questions to the best of his ability. The former-pleasure-whelp had most likely died of internal injury from abuse or rough usage. Most pleasure-whelps died within a year from this or something similar.  

Is this why he saw no mature pleasure-whelps? Sean asked. No, that was because pleasure-whelps had certain organs removed to both keep them from maturing and prevent them from creating offspring, themselves. What if he marched to the capital today and demanded of the king that all pleasure-whelps be freed to return to his city? he asked, with difficulty. Then it would be done, certainly, everyone agreed. But Frodo, Twilight, and Gaston talked him out of it.  

Jafaar was due back in a couple days, and he was researching exactly this kind of thing in the capital. Jafaar would come up with the solution that would spare the most lives. Besides, they didn't have the means to provide food and shelter and attention to that many rescuees. Gaston suggested that a refugee district could be built in the current great city expansion, and perhaps we should wait for that. Sean though it was an amazing idea, and the district could be used in the future to house refugees from other cities in the case of natural disaster or animal attack. All praised the Earth Dragon's mercy and wisdom, and Gaston promised it would be done.  

Sean asked if he had some sort of option to promote Gaston officially for his loyal service and great ideas. Gaston thought for a minute then explained (with Twilight's help to understand Sean, although it had turned out that Gaston, while not a quick study, was willing to put in the hours to already almost be fluent in Sean-speak aka New Draconic) that IF the Great Dragon were ALSO a king of some kind, he could promote Gaston at most to the position of Duke or Count. He was not related to royalty, so he could not be a Baron, although Twilight, Dawn, and a few other royal relatives that lived in town could be.  

A city could have any number of Dukes (Sean's respite had a few already, Sean had stolen their pleasure-whelps, although it was reported that they were, in fact, loyal to the Great Dragon and after initial complaints accepted it as a natural outcome of residing alongside a Dragon of Lust) but only one Count. If Gaston were made Count, he would technically own the city instead of Sean, but Sean technically owned Humanity, so, up to him.  

Sean dubbed Gaston "Count" by "draconic authority", and that was that. Count Gaston's gold and ruby sash became the official badge of that office. Count Gaston cheered Sean up a little with dirty jokes, but it didn't stick. The townspeople offered every last gold or jewel they had to try to cheer up the merciful Dragon that would weep at the death of a mere pleasure-whelp. Sean ate greedily and allowed Dawn and a couple of rescuees that he deemed mature and consenting to fluff him repeatedly, and they were more than happy to be so useful to their Dragon. He brooded and watched his city grow as he awaited Jafaar's return. 

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Jafaar was immediately informed upon his arrival of what he had missed and Sean's current mood, as well as the fact that Sean had been waiting on him specifically for days. Jafaar raced to the Dragon and prostrated himself in squirrely reverence. Sean knew Jafaar would do this, but it still pleased him. He gave Jafaar a couple experimental pets. Jafaar was startled but not unpleased.  

(Do not like?) Sean asked.  

"Oh, no, Great One. It pleases me to receive your affection. Just wouldn't expect that you would want to pet an old man! Princess Twilight! What's wrong with you?" Twilight stumbled over to Jafaar and gave him a sloppy hug.  

"Sean is in a really affectionate mood lately! He pets me with his face and hand for hours! He even gave me kisses, waaaaa!" Jafaar gave her an affectionate, Uncle-y pet on the tail with his own.  

"I also notice that you are nude, my niece."  

"Oops!" Twilight giggled, "I forgot! I feel so drunk that I forgot! Sean prefers to pet me this way! Teeheehee."  

"How do you know what being drunk feels like, whelp?" Twilight pursed (the whisker equivalent of) her lips and refused to answer. "Very well. This and more is what is to be expected of a Dragon of Lust. I heard the sorrowful news. I hope frolicking with the young Princess has brought you comfort, Great One."  

(It has.) Sean agreed. (But, I want to free all whelps. News?)  

"At once, Great One," Jafaar bowed. Sean noted that Jafaar knew exactly when to be formal and guessed that he was a competent politician. "But I must warn you... Some of the news is infuriating."  

Sean grimaced and signed, (Best to move whelps before I accidentally breathe fire.)  

As if on cue, like an accident waiting to happen, one of the rescuees (completely unaware of the conversation taking place, because she was effectively deaf) politely tugged on his arm and asked Sean to look at something she had drawn in a large, flat pile of sand. Sean used the nail of a pinky finger to make a single correction. The sweet little whelp thanked him by giving him gentle pets with her tail. 

Jafaar noticed the words written in the sand and utterly lost his shit. He dropped all decorum and ran over to the sand. There were symbols obviously written by the soft claw of the Dragon, great and magnificent and alien. Half a dozen whelps, including Dawn, sat around the sand pile, combing it flat and attempting to copy the symbols.  

"Is this an ancient draconic picture language?!" Jafaar screeched, hands on the sides of his face.  

Well, it was a phonetic language, not a picture one, but since squirrels didn't communicate very often with sound, he knew that would be a difficult explanation, so he just said, (Yes).  

"We call this language Old Draconic and the hand signs New Draconic. My sister isn't very good at Old Draconic, but I am," Dawn smugly bragged, sand on her whiskers.  

"Well, well," Princess Twilight sputtered, "I'm better at New Draconic! Besides, I've been busy entertaining the Dragon!" She puffed up her bare, furry chest, showing off where it was mussed up from Sean's attentions.  

"Oh, I did that too," Dawn smugly countered, flipping up her tail to show dried semen underneath. Sean closed his eyes in sufferance. Jafaar ignored all this, as he was still in flipping-his-shit-mode.  

"It's just like the picture messages said to be left for us by Dragons thousands of years ago! The Dragons of old always read and added to these messages, but never have they tried to teach us their language! Ooooh! Will you teach us your language, Great One?!"  

(Sure, why not? But those languages and my language might be different. Many Dragon languages.)  

Jafaar stared at the symbols really hard for several minutes. Sean doubted Dragons of a thousand years ago spoke English. But he could teach English to anyone interested and capable. It had occurred to him as a way to help the whisker-cut whelps communicate. So far, most were either mystified or uninterested, but a few jumped on the opportunity to exercise their long-abused minds. Dawn was in fact, as she claimed, strangely good at it.  

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"Approximately 90% of preserved draconic writing is written in these same 26 pictures! This is momentous!" Jafaar's whiskers were comically hopping up and down. "You're already teaching the freed pleasure-whelps to prove they still have minds! You've already started preparing a place for future rescued whelps! Such mercy! Such foresight! Such wisdom! Oooooh!!" Jafaar rolled around on the sand, hugging himself. Sean couldn't help but laugh, startling all the rescued whelps around him.  

(Jafaar is sometimes my favorite human,) he declared. Jafaar missed this since he wasn't watching Sean's hands, but Twilight relayed it. Jafaar shot up, dusting sand from his whiskers, fur, and robes.  

"And who else is it sometimes, pray tell?" he asked, stuffily. Sean pointed at Twilight.  

"Well, it's hardly fair to compare an old man to a nubile, young whelp." Sean gave Jafaar a pet and said.  

(Report, please).  

Twilight spoke, "Dawn, would you please move the whelps behind the treasure pile? Sean might get angry and breathe fire."  

"Oookaaay~"  

"Here Uncle, I'll teach you the new hand words real quick." Sean tapped his fingers impatiently.  

"Let's do that later, niece. The Dragon has waited long enough for my report," Jafaar decided, wisely.  

(Good news first) Sean demanded.  

"At once, Great One. The good news is that the common folk and the Occultists would side with the Legendary Dragon over the King. Warla the Warlord is both extremely loyal to the King but a diehard worshipper of the Dragon, as well. Winning her over would be key to a bloodless coup. I think it's doable, and I have some theories on how to do it. She controls the general army and is very popular and influential with the common folk. She's also the one who led the army to push back War and assist your Greatness in battle, which is how she rose to power."  

Jafaar then stopped talking and waited. And waited. A middle-aged squirrel in a purple robe ran up panting and sweating, then fell into a bow to buy himself time to recover, mumbling about Jafaar and transportation magic.  

Sean shifted to resting his head on his other hand, sighed and said, (OK. Bad news?)  

"You remember First Advisor Weems? He will start us off with the bad news." Weems gave Jafaar a dark look and started off stuttering, head bowed, "O-oo-oh Great and Majestic White Earth-" Sean slapped the ground impatiently, surprising Weems off his feet and paralyzing him in fear. Twilight took the liberty of "translating" this slap.  

"Sean asks to be called Sean and for you to skip formality. He finds it annoying, unless it is Uncle Jafaar doing it. He also promises not to eat you today, so please stand up and relax." Weems followed directions, while looking at Twilight in astonishment as she were a Dragon herself. Sean rolled his eyes while Twilight did her best to keep a straight face.  

"Ahem," Weems continued after making a commendable effort to play it off. "The situation with the Nobles, the Royals, and the King is complicated. I understand that, uh, your goals are to free the pleasure-whelps, abolish their creation and sale, and have Humanity change society around the values of the Earth." Sean glanced at Jafaar.  

"Equality and mercy," Jafaar answered, nodding. It sounded just fine to Sean, he would trust Jafaar with the changing society part and just step in to fix obvious problems...As if he were some kind of God-Emperor-Dragon-King or something and actually had the right to do so.  

(Sounds right.)  

"Sean agrees," Twilight reported.  

"The first two will be harder than the third, in a way. Pleasure-whelp ownership is the mark of wealth and taken for granted, especially in the capital. The Royals and Nobles are ready to pay lip-service to the Path of Earth, but they just... Don't think the rules apply to them. Or they'll get around it." Jafaar radiated anger.  

(Do you have something to say?) Sean asked.  

"Shortly," was all Jafaar would say. Weems waited, wide-eyed and out of the loop.  

"You may continue," Princess Twilight decided.  

"Ah, yes. It seems the King and his retinue think a Dragon must be something like a large, intelligent Titan. I believe that the King thinks that he is secure and in a position of negotiation because he is in the capital city, which is completely unassailable by Titans. This, even though the Dragon of the Cromags has already beaten the capital into submission. This, even though our Dragon is much bigger. Even though it is OUR Dragon." Weems looks exasperated. Apparently, no one listened to the First Advisor, lately.  

(Your loyalty?) Sean asked and Twilight translated.  

Weems stiffened in pride, "To the King, of course. But, I also worship the Great Dra- Sean. These two things are meant to be in harmony. According to the Path of the Air, the King only rules with the Divine Blessing of the Dragon."  

"The Path of the Earth is the same," Jafaar confirmed.  

"I'm afraid that I still need to read up on it. They only teach Air in school. Anyway, I think that merely revealing yourself in the grandest way possible would be enough to sway the hearts of most, Great O- Sean."  

(Great One or Great Dragon is fine, two names or less please.)  

When this was translated, Weems looked relieved. Sean had some questions.  

(I am bigger than Cromag Dragon?)  

"Perhaps twice as big," Jafaar confirmed.  

(Could I take the capital city with my might?)  

"Yes, you could conquer the capital city with your might. However, an extended battle would risk injury to your person from ballistae. You would need to burn the city down with your fire breath for a clean victory," Jafaar said, giving Sean a significant look. Ah-hah, I see what we're doing here, Sean thought.  

"The Dragon can DO that?" Weems squeaked.  

"Of course. You might get to see it, sometime. So, Great One, apparently the partially trained whelps were a big hit in the capital. The Royalty has decided that it can... Simply take any whelps they please from their homes, citing Royal Privilege. They are stunting them and clipping them, and actively researching ways to Not have to clip them. Can you imagine..."  

Apparently, Sean could. The temperature around Sean skyrocketed along with his rage. He would march to the capital TODAY and END THIS. Those that hurt his Fluffies would BURN. Sean caught himself before he breathed on his friends; he knew how to feel it coming, now, and where to redirect it. He had been practicing out in the woods during his bathroom breaks. He faced up, breathed in, feeling the burning form in his lungs, and yell/coughed. Flames that he was strangely immune to roared high into the air. He heard a scream and quickly sat up, to put more distance between his face and others. When his breath and the fire ran out, he turned and spit the real weapon on the flat pile of sand; he had kept his teeth closed so it wouldn't spray everywhere and kill anyone. It was a sort of lava/napalm that oozed over the sand and turned it to glass. It produced so much heat that Jafaar and company had to step back. It raised the temperature of the entire town from early autumn back to a balmy, windy summer.  

"What- What is that??" Weems screeched.  

"Dragon Fire," Twilight reported, "Fireproofing slows the spread of the flames, but they are too hot to stop. The sticky stuff ignores fireproofing no matter what. Sean could send it as far as the flames or farther as a projectile weapon if he chose."  

Sean played with the fiery flem with a finger, spreading it over the sand evenly. Now he had a glass whiteboard, perhaps. The luminescence under his skin glowed eerily bright and spread further yet again. His hands and forearms were completely glowing, and his fingernails had begun to darken. Didn't really bother him, though. The glowing was pretty.  

"I will inform the King that he has no defense against the Dragon's weapons," Weems said quietly, mesmerized by the blues, greens, reds, and oranges in front of him.  

"I doubt Humanity will ever have a defense against this," Jafaar elaborated, "I think that's the point."  

"Obey your Dragon," Twilight agreed, nodding. "He'll keep you warm in the winter!" Sean carefully scooped up all the napalm in his hand. It didn't seem like it would ever cool off.  

Weems confessed, "The King has started taking the whelps of Nobles. He had been eyeing them for years, waiting for an excuse. Come in a week and I'll make sure outrage is at a peak."  

Jafaar patted Weems on the back with his tail, "Exactly what we needed. See you in a week." 

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Jafaar's great idea was for Sean to slay Anthrax the Destroyer and drop off his body at the capital in a week. Occultists of the reconnaissance variety had located the general location of the Titan's nest, and brave hunters found it and made a great discovery; the Titans had gotten weaker, not stronger, over the last couple of months. They were prime for attack. Sean was healed and good to go. This time would be different. There were four wounded Titans and Sean had 200 soldiers, 50 occultists (Jafaar had great influence in magic circles nowadays and grabbed more from the capital), and Fire Breath. Sean was worried about catching the forest on fire, but told the leaves on the forest floor were flame resistant. All the squirrels told him not to worry about their safety; just burn the Titans down. He didn't think that he needed to go that far; this time they had the advantage.  

When they showed up at the massive mounds of tiny bones and rotting flesh that was the Titan's home, Sean was flanked on both sides by a couple hundred squirrels, with the occultists bringing up the rear. The flow of the battle was obvious to all participants; the relatively healthy and strong Anthrax and War walked a straight line towards Sean, in the Two-Titan-Space the flanking army allowed. Famine and Pestilence each picked a side and made a wide circle to get behind. Sean would try to kill Anthrax and War before Pestilence and Famine could break through from the sides and rear and attack his flanks. If three or four Titans got to Sean at once, he might die. Three Titans was too many last time, and none of them was the significantly bigger and stronger male, Anthrax. Sean could take two females, but a male and a female would be the closest fight yet.  

Except...the Titans weren't at 100%. Anthrax had brand new scars on his face, some fresh, from having to fight off females in heat that he could no longer satisfy thanks to Sean's kick (It turns out that Sean's foot was only sprained as a result and it was fine, now). War was missing fur on her arms, legs, and feet, where she had taken many wounds forcing herself through the army to try and save her sisters. But those two were ready to fight and didn't hesitate. Famine and Pestilence were far worse off. Famine's lower jaw and tongue sagged down grotesquely and she was rail-thin; she obviously hadn't eaten much of anything in the past couple of months. She had lost muscle mass, but if anything seemed quicker, alert with the alacrity of a hungry predator. Pestilence was in the worst shape; her exposed skin had turned green and lumpy, and she was constantly shaking. Too late now, but Sean thought that one more month and those two would have died.  

Without warning, the four attacked at once. Anthrax was flying at Sean's throat before War and the others had even leapt. *Snap, crackle, pop, woosh, turn, slip* The various Occultists released their entire payload on War, which was the plan from the start. War fell on her face then scrambled to back up, supremely disoriented. The Occultists couldn't really wound a Titan, but they could create opportunities and delay it quite well. Normally this gave the army a chance to poke it in the foot, but now it was used to give Sean a chance to duel Anthrax.  

He had planned on hitting it as hard as he could, or grabbing it and breathing fire on it, but it was too fast; Anthrax closed its mouth over Sean's fist. He decided to commit instead of recoil, and pushed in his hand further before the teeth closed. A mouth full of sharp teeth closed on Sean's forearm all at once; most pierced his skin but several shattered, to the surprise of both Sean and Anthrax. A mouth full of shattered teeth must have really hurt; Anthrax shrieked like a rabbit and tried to open his jaw and disengage. Sean didn't let it. When the teeth loosened, he shoved his hand in further, using his other arm to grab Anthrax's shoulder and spin him around. Anthrax's teeth carved a spiral in Sean's arm like a can opener, and Sean was only barely able to close his eyes and turn his head in time, taking gouges to the face from Anthrax's front paws, but avoiding losing an eye. Sean grasped the back of the cabbit's neck with his other hand and held the heavier Titan suspended using the strength of both arms.  

Now that Anthrax was facing the wrong way, his front paws were useless. He was suspended, so his rabbit legs could only pump uselessly. Anthrax could only bite Sean's arm and choke on Sean's blood. He couldn't get away or breathe. Sean tried to endure the pain until Anthrax suffocated, turning in a circle to examine the battlefield. 200 squirrels was his city's entire militia; enough to defend the spikey barrier of the city, but not defeat two Titans in the open. Fortunately, the Titans were weak. Famine was gasping and drooling, moving slower and slower, but still killing many squirrels.  

Pestilence was doomed from the start; when attempting to use the hop-in, kill, hop-out strategy that worked so well against the squirrels, she quickly slipped on the blood of the squirrels she had just slain and fell on her wounded back. She took way too long to get up; the squirrels swarmed her, attacking her eyes and neck in a second, even diving into her jaws to attack the vulnerable inside of the mouth. Normally, she would have been able to jump to her feet and get away before taking more than superficial injury. But now she just sort of... Gave up, and let the squirrels end her sickness and suffering.  

Seeing this pitiful death robbed Sean's anger and he felt that he couldn't reach for the Dragon Fire. After a minute, the Occultists ran out of magic and Anthrax went limp. A lot of soldiers and several Occultists were dead, but for all the other Titans knew, Anthrax was as well. Sean brandished Anthrax's limp form at the two remaining Titans; War howled in sorrow and backed up. Famine only had the energy to flee, loping away slowly into the forest. Sean waved Anthrax like a macabre flag, keeping War at bay. He didn't plan on taking his arm out of Anthrax's body until he was sure enough time had passed that it wouldn't wake up. War howled one more time, then turned and bounded off into the mounds of bones.  

Sean took the chance to retrieve his gory arm from Anthrax's throat, then crushed its throat with both thumbs, hands around its neck. He lay Anthrax on its back and stomped on its throat a couple times to be sure. Then he fell to his knees, clutching the inside of his elbow to try to staunch the flow of blood from his shredded forearm.  

"Druidic Mossers! Druidic Mossers!" Twilight called.  

Jafaar, who Sean was relieved to see had survived the battle, echoed this, "Druidic Mossers! Don't hold back!"  

Seven green-robed Occultists ran forward, shedding their robes, grabbing handfuls of moss from each other's backs as they ran. In seconds, his arm was covered in antibiotic luminescent moss that was absorbing into his wounds, recreating lost and torn tissue. Amazing, Sean thought, but he didn't yet have enough available hands to sign it. The blood stopped flowing in a minute.  

(Watch for Famine) he signed at Jafaar, then left to chase War with Twilight on his head. Around a tall pile of bones, he found her, guarding her puppies.  

"Burn them all!" Twilight screamed. Nope. He was invading their home, and now he would kill their defenseless children? This did not fill him with rage, just pity. No rage, no draconic fire. He stalked up to War, who surprised him by turning around and offering her tan, bare behind up in the air in his direction. He took the opportunity and bent over her, hands around her throat from behind; a guaranteed kill. She didn't resist; she backed up and pushed her butt into his crotch, instead. He bent forward over her, increasing the pressure on her throat while her terrified puppies looked on and chirped.  

Then, for the first time, he heard her speak with her whiskers, "New male. New Leader. Conquer me. Protect small. Protect little." She rubbed her bare, human like butt against Sean's crotch, even as she wheezed for breath. Sean made a choice. 

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Choice 1: Path of the Cabbit, Rejected. 

In another story, Sean would accept War's offer. In this story, he crushed her windpipe and walked away crying while the puppies watched their mother asphyxiate. He found the squirrels guarding his back against the forest as he ordered.  

(Young. Will not kill young. Do as you please.) He signaled to Jafaar, then walked away quickly before he could hear the sounds of the puppies slain. They were barely bigger than a squirrel in armor, and there were more than a hundred soldiers still able to fight. He was confident they could handle the puppies, or even Famine if she appeared. He wiped the tears from his face, flinging them to the ground where they exploded into electrical bursts.  

As he carried Anthrax's corpse under his left arm, he picked at the flesh of his right. He found that a lot of the flesh was no longer necessary, and peeled it off to reveal the hard, shiny, blue-green scales of a Dragon. 

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