The Boiling Plains

The hellacious noise did in fact attract an audience. A thing of metal, mind, and sound newly forged by careful attendants. A song two stories high at the shoulder far more that in the span of blade-edged wings that rocketed it across the sky toward music. Music that wasn't a lazy groan from some fearful attendant of weak strings with his purple eyes that stared out from the creche. Red lights formed from blood and fire pushed into being above Mount Killaman flushed among clouds. The rage felt concordant with Zhou's inner echo a thing of nationalism and battle from a nation of mages and built to fly in the deepest fires of their wars. Clouds whistled loudly across the metal blades of its empty frame as Zhou threw itself to land on the ground before the red light mustered its strike.

The platinum-colored ferroplasm rammed pearlescent talons knee deep into the stone like it were clay as Zhou anchored itself at the foot of what would not remain a mountain. This not so small rumble of earth would soon be met by the will of Mankind. Arcs of psionic energy lanced between spars of its hardened ribs that pulse and flex like the anxious muscles they are. Points of bright turquoise eyes focused intently above a draconic maw of harsh ferroplasm teeth coated in flaking psistone enamel. Inside realized entropic will burned to experience real power.

Zhou's long bladed tail slammed down leaving a furrow two strong hands plunged into the earth to brace against an oncoming blast wave. As the wind picked up concordant tones threw sound in earnest with its metal humming. Zhou felt so very alive.

The explosion was nothing short of a localized taste of Ragnarock. Not only did the bolt of lightning flash blinding bright two separate times, but the force of impact was on par with a Nuclear Warhead. It even managed to cause a fission reaction, bathing the Boiling Plain's brand new crater in radioactivity. The planet-wide affects would be felt soon, from honest earthquakes far, and wide, to a Tsunami that could easily reach from Aesard to Wing City's sea-port, and even damage to the continents tectonic plates.

None of this phased the rock-star, however. Between his magic, his wards, and the bodily chemistry his home planet forced on human evolution, he was rather unscathed. His skeletons on the other hand.

There were no undead survivors.

He surveyed the massive hole he'd left, silencing Gun-Gear for the moment, and quite content with himself, when the metallic rustling of Zhou finally reached him. Whipping around on his heel, he froze when his eyes landed on the ferroplasm dragon, causing his mouth to gape.

"Holy fuck, man!" He called out, voice booming as if he had a microphone. "What the fuck are you, some kinda..Fully metal dragon? Damn this is rad. Hey, can you sing?"

He was too excited to be bothered with the normal politeness of meeting someone new, and far too arrogant to fear the thing might be pissed at him for any number of reasons, or here to kill him. Besides, a dragon made out of what looked like steel? That was fucking awesome, compared to all the normal fleshy dragons that made their homes in the Kryptkillian range.

He kinda wanted a picture of this marvelous beastie for his next album cover.

Zhou is blown back not because it is lifted by the shockwave but the sheer force of wind howling tones through its hollow body and the boulders ringing hard against its metal body. The rock its powerful rear legs were buried inside crumpled like so much clay as the Zhou's rippled ferroplasm skin tensed that it gave no ground. As the wind and rage of that shockwave died down the tonal scream faded to a carol of winds pushing back in from the implosion. Zhou eyed the destruction with a purple glow leaking through from the core of a sparking metal body. They were intellectual creatures but focused on the collective self of mankind rather than carrying a strong identity of their own collective like Jinhai. They were tools of metal to be used by those deemed worthy of the Emperor of Mankind. That such power existed in this mankind swelled the pips of light in his eyes to full attention.

Zhou's choral voice carried loudly in response. Along those belled winds it carried through a luminous mouth, hard edged tongue, and discerning eye now directed upon Aedard's stage, "The mankind sees a well graven image of strong creatures envied by many nations for their power. The power leaders sought to sit atop with fire and blood to lead the will the crowd with metal. He sees not merely that base steel that may crack but metal of the crowd's concordant heart beating for an enternal nation of Mankind. He knows as long as that crowd still beats and bleeds then edged metal will sing for blood spilled in their name. Even if just to bask in the roar of drumming feet hearing the thunderous concordance of crowd."