Good time of day, everyone. Apologies for bothering you. I need pointers if the dialogue in this segment sounds unnatural or too repetitive or if it has any other problems. It takes place at the start of a confrontation between the main antagonist and the MC's leader. "King" and "Wyrm Lord: are supposed to be used as names, not titles.
“You asked for a leader; here I am,” Wyrm Lord said, sizing up the opposition. King’s hologram stared at the golden wyrm as a shock raced through the ground, resulting from the tail touching the ground. The arms folded. “Shall we parley?”
“Parley? You are a mere rodent, feebly gnawing at our independence with your rotten set of teeth, unworthy of my attention or thought.” King sneered, waving a dismissive order for Wyrm Lord to vanish from his sight. “I demanded the Dynast, not a glorified bootlicker, too cowardly to rise as his own man.”
“Hubris is a habit you’ll soon unlearn, should you keep posturing, Skomorokh.” The clear chorus of encouragement coming from Wyrm Lord changed to a cold premonition of an impending natural disaster. “If I am a rodent, then you are a parasite, nestled in the dried-up husk of the Old World. Since you’ve chosen to be deaf to an offer of mercy, I’ll waste no more effort on a slaver, attempted child-killer, and liar. People of the Resistance! Enough of this meaningless meat grinder! You’ve suffered, and we’ve suffered because of the vain ambitions of your unworthy shepherd! He’s a predator! Lay down your arms and join us! By now you’ve seen what we are bringing! Restoration, not destruction! Surely, you can understand the heights of prosperity we can reach together! Are you concerned that we will impose our leaders upon you? Perish the thought. We will be delighted if your chiefs choose to keep their positions and guide you toward a brighter tomorrow…”
“Enough of your messianic delusions, Snake.” King also became calm. His every word reeked of threat, his projected figure almost as tall as Wyrm Lord, even though the commander was smaller than the destructive behemoth of the Old World. “We bent this land to our will, clawing our independence from every scum seeking to enslave us. Unlike weak-willed morons, the nations of the Resistance had learned the harsh truth: Once lost, liberty is purchased through blood and tears. We’re not as advanced as your ravenous horde? What about it? In time, we will change our way of life as we see fit, not because you’ve decided to lord over us under the guise of rescuing lost souls. We will not be subjugated by a superpowered freak, nor do we need your ‘restoration.’ We deny you. By our might, we refuse you.”
“I do not need power to get to know others,” Wyrm Lord retorted. “Here I stand, in person. Come, ask me any questions you want, and I’ll answer. Rather than trusting foul slander, make up your own mind. But speak, rather than fight! King. You claim to change the Ravaged Lands in due time. Perhaps it is true; I concede the fact that people here are far more technologically advanced than I had anticipated. But don’t all who dwell in your countries—individuals toiling their existences away with no promised heaven in sight, children dying from easily treatable diseases, mutants facing unfounded oppression—have the right to live here and now? Come out into the open, King, let us put aside committed grievances and forge a better future for all humans. I’m sure a compromise can be found. No one needs to be left behind!”
“But I am in the open, and I will waste no more time on your honeyed lies, serpent. Tlaltzin! End him,” King ordered.
“If your ruler is too cowardly to fight battles he sends his troops into, then I challenge you, Tlaltzin of the Bento Tribe. Let us determine the ownership of the region through an ancient contest. I weep at the upcoming loss of such a noble leader.” Wyrm Lord’s neck swayed, carrying his head around as he examined the machine.
“Then why are your eyes dry, Ivan Murzaliev?” A voice boomed from the titan’s bowels.
“Because I hope that with you gone, no one else will need to die,” answered the golden wyrm.
“Challenge accepted,” the cyborg grunted.
“Don’t be deceived into committing foolishness, my friend! Why should we cede our advantage for the sake of a meaningless duel? All forces, resume advance!” King shouted, raising a hand.
“Parley? You are a mere rodent, feebly gnawing at our independence with your rotten set of teeth, unworthy of my attention or thought.” King sneered, waving a dismissive order for Wyrm Lord to vanish from his sight. “I demanded the Dynast, not a glorified bootlicker, too cowardly to rise as his own man.”
“Hubris is a habit you’ll soon unlearn, should you keep posturing, Skomorokh.” The clear chorus of encouragement coming from Wyrm Lord changed to a cold premonition of an impending natural disaster. “If I am a rodent, then you are a parasite, nestled in the dried-up husk of the Old World. Since you’ve chosen to be deaf to an offer of mercy, I’ll waste no more effort on a slaver, attempted child-killer, and liar. People of the Resistance! Enough of this meaningless meat grinder! You’ve suffered, and we’ve suffered because of the vain ambitions of your unworthy shepherd! He’s a predator! Lay down your arms and join us! By now you’ve seen what we are bringing! Restoration, not destruction! Surely, you can understand the heights of prosperity we can reach together! Are you concerned that we will impose our leaders upon you? Perish the thought. We will be delighted if your chiefs choose to keep their positions and guide you toward a brighter tomorrow…”
“Enough of your messianic delusions, Snake.” King also became calm. His every word reeked of threat, his projected figure almost as tall as Wyrm Lord, even though the commander was smaller than the destructive behemoth of the Old World. “We bent this land to our will, clawing our independence from every scum seeking to enslave us. Unlike weak-willed morons, the nations of the Resistance had learned the harsh truth: Once lost, liberty is purchased through blood and tears. We’re not as advanced as your ravenous horde? What about it? In time, we will change our way of life as we see fit, not because you’ve decided to lord over us under the guise of rescuing lost souls. We will not be subjugated by a superpowered freak, nor do we need your ‘restoration.’ We deny you. By our might, we refuse you.”
“I do not need power to get to know others,” Wyrm Lord retorted. “Here I stand, in person. Come, ask me any questions you want, and I’ll answer. Rather than trusting foul slander, make up your own mind. But speak, rather than fight! King. You claim to change the Ravaged Lands in due time. Perhaps it is true; I concede the fact that people here are far more technologically advanced than I had anticipated. But don’t all who dwell in your countries—individuals toiling their existences away with no promised heaven in sight, children dying from easily treatable diseases, mutants facing unfounded oppression—have the right to live here and now? Come out into the open, King, let us put aside committed grievances and forge a better future for all humans. I’m sure a compromise can be found. No one needs to be left behind!”
“But I am in the open, and I will waste no more time on your honeyed lies, serpent. Tlaltzin! End him,” King ordered.
“If your ruler is too cowardly to fight battles he sends his troops into, then I challenge you, Tlaltzin of the Bento Tribe. Let us determine the ownership of the region through an ancient contest. I weep at the upcoming loss of such a noble leader.” Wyrm Lord’s neck swayed, carrying his head around as he examined the machine.
“Then why are your eyes dry, Ivan Murzaliev?” A voice boomed from the titan’s bowels.
“Because I hope that with you gone, no one else will need to die,” answered the golden wyrm.
“Challenge accepted,” the cyborg grunted.
“Don’t be deceived into committing foolishness, my friend! Why should we cede our advantage for the sake of a meaningless duel? All forces, resume advance!” King shouted, raising a hand.
