The Great Ones The Great Ones Beneath

[Zeri Rekani]

Szesh clutched Zeri to his chest, and the shock and trauma of all that had transpired--her mother slain, her home destroyed, the horror of the dragon, the sum of her injuries--began to take its most grim toll.

Her short and rapid breaths came to a halt.

Her eye became glassy as she lost consciousness.

And her heart stopped beating.

Szesh

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria’s eyes flew open in surprise as the end of her weapon shattered against the blade of the dragon’s champion. She was pushed back by the being’s sheer strength, but she remained on her feet. His words caused her to grin beneath the helmet.

“Not on the Prince’s life, but on yours,” She glanced briefly at the flame in his hand, having to look away from the brightness of it, “Your Queen is a fool to turn away an entire people willing to do her bidding. Perhaps there is hope for this Prince.”

While her blade wasn’t made from materials or ore that could withstand the armor, her arrows were enhanced with magic to battle against the mighty creatures and drow priestesses in the Underrealm. It was rare for Vyx to rely on her bow and arrows, especially as each arrow was so precious, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Within the blink of an eye, Vyx’aria nocked and fired a single arrow at the champion right as Xunari attempted to hold him in place. The arrow would shoot directly at the green flame he produced, intending to ignite and slam it deep into the front of his armor to crack it as the arrow flew through. The flame he had produced burned hot as dragon fire and the tip of the arrow would burn with it and amplify the effects with its own enchantments to drive into the scales of the armor.

Zachariah Zathria At'Arel Xunari Auceus Karanon Ulventhral Velathina T'sarran

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria was quick and matched the dragon warrior hit for hit. Unfortunately, the magic binding her emril blades was undone. Never, in all her years as a swordsman, had anything broken the enchantment. Now, however, whatever his sword was made of had done the trick. It snapped the blade and shattered it. Only her other blade was left, but she leapt back, knowing that another bout wouldn't go any better.

Her mind began racing through options as she looked at the warrior in front of her. The blazing flame was a pain to her eyes and immediately felt like it was scorching her skin even from this distance. But she didn't back off entirely.

As Vyx'aria fired her bow, Zathria moved. This time it was not to strike with her sword, but to throw the knife on her belt. Not at the man or his armor, but at the backpack. Or rather the tethers that held it to the man's body. With any luck at all - and with the man busy with the arrow - the knife would cut through one of the straps and half-free the pack from his back. But luck didn't seem to be with her today.

 

[Zier Xya Zythos]

He could see it from here. That Pyromancer poured everything he had into that attack. It was too large and blinding to say he didn't. Hopefully he didn't push past his limit. Despite those courageous efforts, they appear fruitless, leaving a mere scorch mark upon it's shoulder that the dragon casually brushed aside with it's tail. Right then and there, their fate may be confirmed. That attack would've obliterated anyone, leaving them in a smoldering crater, but it was only a minor inconvenience for it. That fact alone was terrifying for Zier, and he almost missed what the Maester said.

He didn't even register that the Dragon
stopped, and when he did, he could've fainted on the spot. Right there. PLOOOP on the ground.

Fuck. fuck. fuck. We're fucked. We. Are. Fu-

He noticed something.

It is not killing anyone.

Zier has read what he could about Dragons. Gargantuan creatures that have lived for centuries before him, and will live long after him. Honestly, he has no idea why some people can consider them as monsters. If anything, people can be the monsters. There's good dragons, and bad ones. The older ones can be wise and simply want to pass tales onto the species of Arethil that ask. This particular dragon? No one knows at the moment. That being said, they're making a fucking mistake.

It looked at the pyromancer and the individual that's carrying him away, yet it didn't swallow them right there. The empires imposing forces are already beginning an attack, but it doesn't kill them. All of them, hastily attacking this dragon without knowledge of it's true motives. They're all throwing their lives away for what? to die fighting? to protect their loved ones? to add the Dragon slayer title to their resumé? They're fighting for absolutely no reason at the moment.

Zier can't blame them. His initial thought was that this thing was going to kill them all too, but he at least stopped to look at the bigger picture! Of course, the dragon could think they're all insects; Wasps that shouldn't be regarded as a threat, and they honestly shouldn't since they obviously cannot harm it. Still, wouldn't you step on a fire ant that bit you? You kill it without a second thought, but this beast is not.

Zier was lagging behind because of his fear, but that has momentarily vanished, being replaced with determination and slight anger from everyones impetuous actions towards the dragon. He hurried his pace, turning towards the Maesters and mages, explaining that they need to tell everybody to calm the absolute fuck down because they don't know this creatures motives.

It could unfortunately step on somebody because they didn't make their presence known, or because they did in a HOSTILE manner so the dragon took retaliation. Either way, they need to make their existence known in a positive way instead of all the senseless bravado.

 

[Sepheron]

Sepheron dug his hooks into the ground deeply as it kept him securely in place as Neha shifted her position and made the ground quake slightly. When she asked him if she would answer Drakormir's call, he let out his own bark of laughter that sounded like gravel mounds colliding against each other. Please, you may convince these beings but not me. The dragon was never one afraid to speak his mind and it showed then openly. There was a reason he preferred his solidarity for so long and found his home in the Underrealm. I witnessed how your pathetic worshippers wept to the sky at first with their Gods' abandonment.

Sepheron lowered his head and dragged his body along the ground and slithered in between the fresh crags that had been formed. When he found one suitable enough, he dug his hooks into it before heaving himself once more onto the top of it as his tail wrapped around the entirety of it. Time has not been kind. The great Neha and Drakormir have slowly trickled from this world's conscience. Even then he could sense it, an unseeable fervor that had once usually surrounded the Elder and radiated off her when her followers had fully worshipped her and Drakormir. It had been weakened severely since the centuries that had passed.

As if on cue, it appeared as if two monster hunters suddenly revealed themselves, one charging forward either bravely or stupidly, toward Neha and launched his javelin at her head. The second sent a beam of light to accompany it, obviously magic to attempt to pierce her scales. The sight made Sepheron chuckle loudly as his gaze landed on the two and then went back to Neha with utter amusement filling his eyes. The dragon anticipated it would barely affect her if it did at all even. It appears their fear has faded from them as well.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas, Lazule, Neha

 

[Karanon Ulventhral]

The sounds started to become less like vague echoes of tormented legions amid the ceaseless scraping of metal against stone as the drow man explored the Bhathairk Undercity. After leaving the hallway and entering a dark chamber they stared to sound like great thuds and crashes and the slightly less distant wailing of a riot in the streets. Many of those thuds coinciding with tremors that shook the area. And as he went through the unilluminated chamber, which appeares to have been carved out of gold to his reckoning, he exited to an ancient and ruined square. Doubly ruined. For where once had been the eastern side of the square, there was now nothing. A vast chasm could be seen. Apparently a vast portion of the entire Undercity, and indeed of the entire surfacer's ground, had fallen into lakes of lava below.

Karanon gawked at the sight. Lone peaks and diagonally fallen pillars of stone, leaning upon the upper heights of the chasm. And across all of it a strange grey dust fell. It looked like ash. Not much of it had fallen upon the open section of the Undercity where he stood, however. Just a tiny bit had fallen into the chasm's exposed wound of the Bhathairk Undercity square, touching the very edge where the ground ceased to be. The sounds of riotous cacophony echoing from above certainly made more sense now. The surfacer's world had appearantly started to collapsed into the Underrealm over a lake of lava. Of course there would be a clamor of alarmed and panicking folk up there.

Nearly mesmerized, Karanon stepped closer to the chasm to see more of the devastation. Closer to ashes that made their way into the remains of the square. Closer to an unknown doom. Closer to...

YANK!​

The former merchant was pulled, literally out of his foolish, self-endangering stupor by a little purple and pink spider who had a far greater sense than he did. Shaerra felt that venomous force was coming from the ashes, and had attached a length of sticky silk to the floor, and holding tight to that with two arms, jumped upon her new friend's back again and pulled him with all of the force she had away from the opening where ash was still falling in. She was stronger that she looked. Most spiders were, as the drow well knew. And he went flying backwards to the floor and landing squarely on his ass.

At which point, Shaerra ran around in front of him and started jumping up and down and waving her front four arms and pedipalps around while making chattering noises. The scene was reminiscent of a worried younger sibling scolding their elder brother for doing something stupid and nearly getting killed. The dark skinned elf had not percieved any threat in the ashes, and presumed that the spider thought he would have fallen into the lava below. And he might have, had he not been jerked out of his state of awe and wonder. Little could he have imagined what sights awaited him when he emerged on the surface.

"Very well. I'll be careful, Shaerra." At these words, the arachnid climbed up his shirt and clung to his chest, placing her foremost legs upon his shoulders. It was like the cat-sized spider was giving the male drow a hug. And the male drow responded in kind. Embracing the little purple arachnid, but gently so as not to smoother her. And even though the tips of her spiderfangs touched the exposed black flesh of his chest where his shirt was open, she did not dream of pushing them down as if he were food. Nor did the spider trainer fear that she would. "Thank you."

It was a genuine expression of deep gratitude he had just spoken to her. With not a hint of groveling or falseness behind it. Nor any presumption that he had been saved out of some portion of self-interest. This was a very strange feeling for someone born and raised in Zar'Ahal. To be able to offer deep gratitude in such a pure way was almost alien to him. But the strange elf had to admit, it felt good. Almost like a relief of some burden.

After a few moments, the drow stood and decided to make his way through the side of the Undercity that was farther away from the chasm. Shaerra remained on Karanon's chest. Perhaps she wanted her eyes in front of the drow just in case he decided to walk right into danger again.

As he made his way out of the square and into an adjacent Undercity street, the strangest thought echoed across his mind. He wasn't one to worship a dragon goddess. Or something like that. It was strange how unclear his own thought had been. Yet he supposed it true. After all, he had been raised in the old temple of Lylthryal, a drow spider goddess who had fallen out of favor with the nobility some centuries ago. Was that something that he had half forgotten from one of her scriptures? Shrugging it off, he decided to give the matter some attention later. Once he was on the surface and safe.

It took a fair bit of exploring to make his escape after that. Much like in the Underrealm tunnels 5hat he had arrived from. This passage was entirely caved in. That one lead to a collapsed cellar. The next had the ground fallen so that there was no way to get up to the high exit at it's end. Finally, he found a lond tunnel, with a very slow ascent. And as he walked it there were more tremors and thuds and dark sounds getting clearer and clearer. With any luck this exit wouldn't be caved in at all. When he did come upon the exit he found that it opened to a mound of earth so that it was entirely disguised from the surfacers' perspective. Nearby was a fallen structure of wood. A former lookout tower, perhaps? The bodies of dead orcs were scattered about. And amongst them was one who clutched a truly beautiful war axe, sure to fetch a nice price from some other warrior. Maybe this weapon trading idea would work out after all.

But as he bent down to relieve the fallen fighter of that which he had clutched in his last moments, the drow felt two sharp chelicerae tap harshly against his chest as if in warning.

"What? It's not like he is going to miss it!" Karanon protested.

Another harsh double poke.

"So you're fine with me taking from the bodies of my kin, but not from orcs?"

Yet another double poke.

The drow let out a sigh. "Oh, very well. Let's just find..."

But as the drow turned around his voice failed. He saw the devastated town beyond the mound and falling ash even deeper within the ruin. He saw one massive dragon of gold and black appearing to speak with another. Another who was unfathomably large. Impossibly large. Epic in scale. Too big...

"You're immense..." He heard himself declare in a half stunned whisper, and he felt Shaerra crawl off of his chest and onto his back. His mind could hardly process how infinitely vast this second dragon was. Was that the the dragon goddess that he wasn't supposed to worship? Had it been a message from the ancient spider queen in his mind, warning him not to fall for a false deity? He could plainly understand why anyone might have needed such a message. Why anyone might have. This thing was beyond anything he had ever thought to see. Entire families were eradicated by the swaying of her tail.

And there was so much more. Chaos all around. Those who remained alive were panicking, running, screaming, and very likely to not recover their sanity ever again. Thinking of insanity, he saw not one but two beings who looked like they were actually charging at the biggest thing, maybe ever. Surely they would be dead soon...

And more. As he got onto the mound. To look at the area around the thing he noticed a strange sight. A group of dark elves facing of against a warrior in dark armor with a bulging pack strapped being him. And among them. Was that Commander Tor'Rahel and her allies? Of all the...! Just when Karanon had been ready to flee into the woods with the local refugees... Unfortunately, for the male drow and his goal of living to see another day, he owed the Commander.

Kneeling down as he had in the tunnels, Karanon Ulventhral took aim with his crossbow at the neck of the warrior who occupied the attention of the drow company, and let a bolt fly towards that mark. It wouldn't do much for a bolt to dent his helm. But even if his neck was protected by chainmail, the hit would be felt and might distract the heavily armored one. Not hesitating to watch his projectile fly, the drow male immediately got to reloading his crossbow.

--- --- --- --- ---​

Zathria At'Arel Zachariah Velathina T'sarran Xunari Auceus Vyx'aria

 

[Ashuanar]

The ground broke beneath the scorpion's mighty legs as it began forward to take up the chase...

"Viziers, to me,"

…and abruptly, its forelegs slammed down out front of it, bringing it to a halt. Ashuanar's eyes rose up, looking on as Maho flew into action. With grief and admiration he watched...

And even his righteous fury was for naught,

his efforts were fruitless.

Futile.



...by the gods, what was it they faced here this night?

Akrep.​

The scorpion let out a terrible hiss, reaching it's claws wide and posturing itself angrily against the great dragon before them, it's tail reared up and back. And there, with its stance widened, the way was made for the Imperials to charge through underneath, and the moment for Medja to find her way to Ashuanar's side. And at Gerra's call the host charged, and in tandem Akrep started forward and kept itself positioned so that it's body covered the emperor from overhead.

"We likely go to our deaths this day, dear Sun."

His eyes smiled at her, his lips hidden, "so it would seem," his voice also raised.

He looked forward and up, his perspective changing slightly with each lurching movement of Akrep. His feet, and Medja's, held comfortably in place by some unseen force. And he could feel... he could see... twisting and churning through the air between them and the dragon, and all around. Strange magics, appearing and then leaving, twinkling and vanishing. He had never seen such things, not like this... and his eyes had allowed him to see much through his years. These were powers he had no understanding of... no way to -

"Do we have a plan?" ​

He turned his head to her again, a defiant sorrow in his eyes.

"I..." his eyes cast down.

His most powerful tool felt little more than a nuisance in comparison to such a gargantuan foe. Akrep rivaled some of the largest creatures known in all of Arethil... before now. He turned behind, considering those at the rear - the horrors they would bare witness to moments before their own demise. Then turning forward, considering if there was any hope of helping any of them... perhaps.

"Akrep is a powerful creature..." he mused aloud. It was far from what he had hoped it would be in this situation - however, given the opportunity...

The scorpion's sting could prove deadly.

"...I need to get it close."

Gerra | Medja | Kara Orin
Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk | Masaru

​

 

[White Swallow]

Tunnels.
Tereth Adathar
​

Some of the men already readied their weapon when Tereth had ridden towards them.
Not a man of theirs, however, The White Swallow's arm levelled swoosh to the side, made them adapt a more relaxed pose.

Many were on edge. Zakariyya and his men already slowly led their beasts downwards. A slope of sand that seeped into the hole, proved to be the perfect ramp and safest method of descending.
»That or death from above, but I fear what else rests beneath here.« For a moment, The White Swallow observed the man as he made his personal descent into the bellow.
A soldier of sorts. Foreigner, here by chance or on a quest? He appeared oddly at home once down there. Nevermind.

The last of his men and then lastly, he Alsanunu, descended.

A bit stuffy, however, the air seemed breathable, Zakariyya had some men light up lamps to guide them through the segments of the cavern not lit up by the dim light of the outside world.

Slowly in walked the White Swallow, past the many wall-marks. His eyes gazing up at every single of those illustrious images.
»Is this a prophecy or history, « he chuckled from the back of the row, but his words cast were serious.
»Alsanunu, we can talk about that later. «
Zakariyya on the front, went in to help their new acquaintance with the door. Some other soldiers stepped in in case the door might have been too heavy for a pair of men.

 

[Kara Orin]

THE DRAGON

Masaru pleased Drakormir.

The song in the air for the dragon picked up a cheery tone. Drakmormir now knew who to erase from this world once he was full, unless they bargained for forgiveness.

Masaru should remain to impart more knowledge, but if he wished to depart for safety then there is a place twenty-one hundred leagues to the east he could go and find safety among His children.

The precarious situation for Alexios Marxan on the neck of the dragon worsened with the appearance of Méchanteau.

An amber eye narrowed upon the skeleton.

From the ground, it would appear as if Drakormir just jerked His head at random. Without a frame of reference, it looked like a normal movement of some animal. Yet at the dragon’s head, the centripetal force would be tremendous just from the sheer size of the dragon. It threatened to toss Mechanteau in whichever random direction he would let go.

For Alexios, even the dragon’s neck jerked in order to twist His head. While not as violent as at the dragon’s eye, the skin quickly shifted and moved in unpredictable manners.

Observations by Medja would reveal that, barring His size, Drakormir was still a dragon. His scaley hide on his backside seemed thick. Almost like plate armor. The wings seemed to be thin, but at Drakormir’s size any wind blast from them would rival the typhoons common on eastern continental coasts.

Drakormir’s pink underbelly seemed the least protected area – at least compared to the back. The thickness of that skin would be unknown at this point – but it was sufficient to withstand the brief attack from Maho and Celestia. The black scorch from Maho’s attack remained.

The dragon’s hands and feet bore massive claws. The plate-like scales could be seen on the topside while the dragon revealed a pink underside earlier when He walked out of the Scar.

Finally, Drakormir sported a mouth that remained slightly open the entire time – almost as if He did not have lips. His nostrils could be seen at the sides of his head – just at the base of a massive spike protruding from his head. The dragon’s eye remained unblinking. It could be assumed the dragon had ears similar to other dragons and lizards.

Drakormir made the colossal Akrep appear dwarfed. If the Empire was to gamble on the beast of Ashuanar , they would have to assure the scorpion could find a spot that could pierce the dragon’s flesh. That, and get close enough without dying.

As the Empire charged, Drakormir would raise its head high. Then, it spread its wings. A gust of wind blew over the sand dunes as the wings once more enveloped the sky.

It glared upon the Empire’s forces.

---

BENEATH FORBIDDEN CITY

Beneath the Forbidden City, the door opened for the White Swallow and Tereth Adathar. It revealed a massive, dark room. The only light came from the tunnels that the delvers came from.

If a light source was produced, they would see on the walls thousands upon thousands of depictions of a dragon in multiple situations. More scenes of a dragon destroying a village. A dragon sitting on treasure. A dragon fighting a beast. A dragon fighting a humanoid the same size as it. Humans with reptilian tails bowing to the dragon – its head surrounded by a halo.

Scattered along the walls were coffins. Stone sarcophaguses with ancient runes etched upon the surface.

Traps and enemies remained absent. For now. Even as others may venture further into the chamber.

The far side of the chamber would feature a massive stone-etched mural. It showed the same dragon depicted earlier in chains. Above the dragon was Arethil’s moons and the Blood Stars. Beneath the dragon were typical depictions of the ancient people of the Forbidden City – those that disappeared in the sands long ago. These ancient people held spears that were etched as having plunged into lizard-tailed people. The bottom of the carving had an impression – as if it was some body of liquid. Lines were drawn straight down to this pool from the wounds on the lizard-tailed people.

And sitting on a pedestal below the carving was a single spear.

---

ELBION EXPEDITION TRIES TO CATCH UP WITH EMPIRE

Upon hearing arguments from Zier Xya Zythos that they should approach the dragon in peace, Maester Awano was the first to admit, “Yes, we don’t know what the dragon wants.”

In as soft as a tone as he could manage, Awano continued with, “But if a dragon wanted to come in peace, it would make that known.”

The Elbion Expedition was getting close to the Empire’s forces. The hairs on the scorpion could almost be seen.

Once within earshot of people, Maester Awano would try to get someone’s attention with, “We’re from Elbion. What in Astra’s name is happen?”

 

[Tereth Adathar]

Tereth continued onward, glad to hear the soldiers descending behind him so that he wasn't alone down here. He half expected to find clutches of eggs and other baby dragons waiting to eat him, but thus far nothing of the sort appeared.

What he did see as he looked at the walls through the magic conjured in his eyes were the carvings. They depicted something from ancient civilization: history lost to all memory until now.

They worshipped it as a god, he said quietly, glancing back at the soldiers and then at the carving of the people bowing and the halo above the head of the dragon. What caught his eye the most, however, was the humanoid. The same size as the dragon and locked in combat with it. It was... difficult to imagine.

Then came the slaying and captivity.

And then they locked it down here, he said, looking at the chains that bound it and the men that seemed to have slain the lizard men. He didn't even pretend to know a fraction of what this meant. History and ancient lore weren't his strongest suits, but he could only imagine that whatever this was had incredible significance for the world at large.

But it all led to the center. The pedestal upon which rested the device depicted as killing the dragons. He could only wonder what it was that made this artifact so potent, but if it could really kill a dragon, it was what they needed.

He approached the spear carefully. His danger senses still screamed to him that this was hazardous, but everyone above was relying on it. He reached out and gently laid a hand on the spear, not seizing it off the pedestal, but testing it as one might test bath water. If nothing happened, then he would take it from the pedestal with caution.

White Swallow

 

[Celestia]

Celestia gently laid down the human she had carried from certain doom. She had healed him to the best of her ability without completely collapsing, and she couldn’t tell what impact it had just yet. The Avariel shook her head as she gazed at the man, “Humans...so foolish..” She muttered softly, recalling how stupidly he had launched himself towards death. And for what? Some scorch marks on a beast that barely noticed.

The Avariel ensured the man was left away from the battle for now, allowed to recover his strength. She had more pressing matters to tend to - like the fact that the dragon was enraged and turning on the droves of humans that charged towards it. Celestia watched with fascination as thousands of the groundlings rode towards certain doom, all corralling around - she squinted her eyes to see - was that a human? It appeared absurdly tall and its hair was on fire for some reason.

Not pondering on her musings, Celestia hopped up and took to the skies again. She flew low this time, sweeping right above the Imperial military.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

She came in from above a soldier, ducked low and abruptly yanked the spear from the man that was brandishing it in the air in one fluid motion. She offered a subtle wave with her hand to quietly ask for the flame haired man that was leading the charge for forgiveness.

Celestia rose to the skies again in an arc, circling around from the dragon’s flank while it focused directly ahead at the armies. She had been out of its line of sight since her initial attack, and she knew she wasn’t his concern at this point. The Avariel used that to her advantage, rising up near the dragon’s head.

She saw how her blade had done nothing, but perhaps there were other ways to put the hurt on it. Celestia came up from the dragon’s back and fell to the side in the air and aligned herself to the side of its head. She could make out the hole that marked its ear, and she aimed and launched the spear in her hand while the dragon was still and distracted.

The spear would shoot directly towards the hole, aiming to wedge directly into its ear and perhaps do some serious damage.

Gerra Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk Kara Orin

 

[Szordryn Zaphresz]

Szordryn’s vermillion eyes had fallen upon Vyx’aria, awaiting instruction on how best they ought to proceed, given the news of the Orc attack on the Drow scouts. It did not come as a surprise to him that they were being blamed for the Armageddon occurring around them. In less dire circumstances, he might have accepted these accusations as a fortuitous means of inciting fear and violence among the lesser races here to aid their own endeavors. The loss of their home, however, brought with it myriad other concerns, not the least of which being how they might return below ground where they might be free of these ashen skies and screaming primitives.

Szordryn cast a cursory glance over to the scout, who was now forcibly bent double by his own fit of coughing. He looked disgustingly frail, and the deathlike, ghoulish pallor of his skin marked him as one whose final moments were being measured in mere minutes. Dismissive by nature, Szordryn turned away from the man as he hawked up more blood and phlegm, choosing to ignore the quiet groans as each belabored breath caused the man’s bruised face to move uncomfortably. He no longer provided use and would instead find an agonizingly slow death to be his fate.

Whatever remained of the report the surviving scout had come to deliver meant very little in the following moments. They all had felt it; the rumble deep from the earth, growing in power until at last its calamitous crescendo revealed its cause. Breath barely held, Szordryn stared at the impossible creature until it had risen to its full height where Bhathairk and its surroundings once stood. The screams could no longer be heard over the deafening crack of the earth, and the Drow sorcerer barely had the heart to remain standing as it made its presence known to all. Once the auditory assault had ended and the only reminder was the ringing in his over-sensitive ears, Szordryn stared in awe of the beast. Were this not the herald of the apocalypse, he might have even felt a measure of satisfaction at the destruction it wrought upon the surface dwellers.

Vyx’aria’s attempt at diplomacy failed tremendously and she was dismissed as easily as one might swat away the rock-mites belowground during supper. Incensed by this display of callous indifference to his mistress, but rooted still by the sheer size of the monstrous goddess, Szordryn did little more than watch. Of course, once the duel between the black-clad death knight and his party had begun, he was roused from his stupor, and suddenly the desire to impress the many females here overwhelmed his own sense of self-preservation.

Everything was pure and utter chaos, and it was difficult to consider the many variables of the battlefield. The black knight found himself the target of the others, so Szordryn set about focusing on the greatest threat: the reborn dragon goddess.

At this range, and with the scale of Neha, magic might not have been the best course of action unless he wanted to draw as much attention to him as he could. However, the sudden arrival of the magic-slinging monster hunters provided him with the window of distraction he could leverage to get closer. The near-total annihilation of Bhathairk provided him with the sanguine fuel needed for his foul sorcery. The presence of women provided him with the steely resolve (and infernal madness) to impel him to do something that was most definitely horrendously ill-advised.

Something in him wanted to cry out in opposition to this ludicrous plan, to instead cower and submit to the end of all things, but he shoved it aside for the time being. This way, he’d at least be away from the women who would kill him for cowardice, rather than the dragon that might kill him.

While Vyx’aria and others occupied themselves, Szordryn dashed off towards the towering figure of Neha. Every lumbering movement of the monster shook him to his core, and several times he nearly lost his balance, which surprised even him. Ideally, the two attacks aiming for her would keep the dragon goddess distracted while he closed the distance.

Nothing more than a diminutive figure in the monster’s periphery, Szordryn hoped dearly that she would pay little mind to him and instead worried about the two blatant threats charging her way like foolhardy knights you read about in children’s fables.

Seriously, who were these guys? Did they even see the size of this dragon? It basically had a mountain range on its spine! And what of the other dragon, was it not concerning to openly duel two colossal monstrosities? At least he was trying to not be noticed.

Provided he had enough time and the dragon goddess didn’t decide to use him as an ant-sized appetizer or move, Szordryn would attempt to leap up and onto the beast’s massive foreleg, using the blood from a pile of pulverized corpses as a means of magically enhancing his maneuver. Being closer up to the beast meant that whatever weaknesses it might have would be easier to find and exploit. If anything, he could make his way to the more vulnerable parts of its body to attack from an unexpected angle with less tax on himself than if he used magic from farther away. If this worked, he’d desperately reach for and cling onto one of her massive scales for dear life, quite unsure what to do next on his spree of the world’s worst decisions.

If it didn't, well... It was a good life while it lasted.

Neha

 

[Zachariah]

Arrows. Daggers. Sub-par magic.

Zachariah was quickly loosing interest. For a moment it would appear as if the little worthless group of Drows had done a good job. The red lines of power wrapped about his arms, his legs, his torso. He could feel the slight sap on his energy but the fools seemed to fail to realise he could draw upon Neha's. His Queen's energies far out paced anything they could throw at him in this manner. He strained against the bonds as if truly desperate and worried but then the laugh came forth again.

The green flame that he had held in his hand suddenly swept down the red bonds back towards the sorcerer who had cast the spell. Dragon fire was a nasty thing especially to those who wore no protection. However, if they had been touched by the Ash that had fallen from the sky and had begun to feel the odd itch other citizens felt, this would now suddenly vanish as it licked up their skin.

The arrow demanded his attention next and his sword came up to deflect it before sweeping down to catch any other attacks upon his person. When the dagger flew towards his strap even though it appeared as though he were focused on the others, his spare hand reached out and snatched it from the air.

His eyes weren't even on them though; they were on the two pathetic worms who dared attack his Goddess.

"As entertaining as this has been I have places to be," Zachariah sighed and then suddenly slammed his sword into the ground. The green flame poured into the earth and then exploded in a ring around him pushing outwards. It was as if the fire had a mind of its own. It rushed forth like galloping horses, knocking people in its way off of their feet, blistering skin and searing out runes. Like with the sorcerer, those touched by the flames despite the pain would find the odd itch now gone.

Zachariah left them at a casual walk towards Neha.

 

[Neha]

Neha did not hold much love for others of her kind but she at least held respect for them. Sepheron more than most; the golden dragon had kept himself out of the politics that seemed to riddle their kind. His greed was a little disdainful but it had removed him from the playing field when it came to the domination of mortals and now she was a mother, Neha could even see the appeal of a more... quiet life. She had woken because of things beyond her control not because she had wanted to.

Though it seemed her presence was required. Manners needed to be reinstalled.

The javelin of light and then the lightning hit her scaled shoulder. For a moment it would seem as if both were frozen in suspended animation, hanging there like ornaments in the sky. Then suddenly her scales rippled as they had when she had first emerged and the endless void of darkness seemed to suck in the two attacks.

Perhaps I should remind them.

Suddenly the great dragon crouched and then heaved herself into the sky. The air sucked up towards her wings and then came back with a slamming force that would send everyone on the ground sprawling as she took flight. It seemed impossible that such a beast should be able to achieve such a feat but Neha made her ascent look like as easy as breathing. The final bits of earth that had clung to her scales was stripped away and fell to the ground beneath.

Up she soared into the mottled grey clouds that shrouded the night and hovered there above the city. Her wings eclipsed the moonlight and pitched the city into darkness.

Then the green flame that issued forth from her mouth onto the city lit it once more.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Where the Ash fell soon people began to experience an uncomfortable itch and a wretched cough. Under the traumas of other injuries incurred especially in the Forbidden City and Bhathairk it was low down on the list of priorities. A few scholars, however, had begun to scour the scrolls for mentions of an event of this magnitude happening before.

They refer to her as the Black Death.

Unlike her mate she holds no inclination to speak to our kind or offer them the protection of her flame from the Ash which we have learnt contains the dreaded Draconic Plague. We hear that a group from Elbion have sent forth an expedition forth to learn of another cure which may involve travel to a land far beyond the shores of Arethil.

We hope that they return soon with news that may aid us all.

Chronicler Jaeril, 345

Despite the dragons size one must not forget that He is merely a dragon and dragons can be killed. Weapons and normal magic may appear at first to not work but there is a kind that is ... forbidden that we believe might stand a chance at bringing down this monstrosity.

It is still outlawed here and frowned upon so we were unable to conduct our own experiments but contained within this journal are what we have discovered so far.

Scholar Soraya, Ragash, 276

Dear Father,

The city we have found is... strange. They worship these dragons as if they were their Gods and hold them in such reverence it is hard to really determine what of their abilities is real and what is not. What they all seem to agree on is that the dragons, when submitted to, will cure people of the Plague that currently afflicts our lands. When we press for further details or ways we can help the people their answer is always the same:

Convert.

I do not think we would be able to persuade the Maesters to follow such a plan and we are now theorising that it is something the dragons possess that is the real cure. Fire seems the most logical choice but when we have tried with the fire from other dragons it has only seemed to make the symptoms worse. Perhaps there is something within these beasts which make them more.

We will spend one more week here then attempt to return. Considering we lost three of our crew on our voyage here I hope that if I do not return then at least these will reach you.

Pass my love onto mother

Alatar.

Last known correspondence from Alatar to Maester Dransolish ​

 

[Alexios Marxan]

Well shit.

Alexios found, once again, he was getting fucked over by someone trying to play fucking hero! This time it was... some kind of... skinny white pirate? He couldn't really tell because it was kind of far away but it was irritating because whoever they were they had well and truly fucked him without even so much as a decent dinner first.

The dragon shook it's head and for a beast of the dragon's size to shake it's head it needed to use it's neck. Cursing loudly but without any real purpose, Alexios clung on desperately to the skin of the dragon's neck until he knew he had a decision to make.

He could either try and re-attach himself to the dragon when he was doubtlessly thrown from it or he could try and land safely on the ground.

The ground would mean that he was less likely to be attacked by the ground he was standing on but, well, was it really a good idea to be stood in front of the damned dragon? The choice was taken from him however as the skin he was clinging to rebelled against his presence he was he suddenly flying through the air.

This... was a problem.

Spinning endlessly through the air, Alexios drew upon his magic again. It was honestly starting to hurt just to touch it but he would much prefer that to death. Flames burst from him in every direction as he span before they seemed to become more cohesive, turning into controlled jets of flame that spun him around and rocketed him back onto the back of the Dragon's neck.

He clung on for dear life, blood dripping from his ears, eyes and mouth, he must have looked a hell of a sight as he shouted out

"YOU OVERGROWN RAT-LIZARD FUCK! I'M STILL HERE! YOU HEAR ME?! I'M STILL HERE!"

Damn the pain.

Damn the damage it would do to himself.

A tightly contained ball of fire grew within his right palm. He did his best not to look at it, knowing that it would be a bad idea. He was working within the ball of fire, tweaking it as he built it up. It would not be a regular fire, he decided, because regular fire was of no effect so he would do something else.

And his dad said chemistry had been a dumb topic to learn.

 

[Xunari Auceus]

Having her trap work had allowed her a second to relax and it was that second that was set to cost her in seemed. It had all seemed to be working so very well but, she supposed, that was why it worked so very well as an ambush and trap technique.

His, not hers.

The fire rushed up the length of her bonds before she could break them fully. She saw the flames shooting back towards her faster than she could actually remove herself safely from the rune array she had made.

So the fire made the leap, latching onto her right arm and she screamed in pain as it burned. It burned away her sleeve and ate away at her flesh as she rolled away from the rune array and the direct line of confrontation. Her skin blistered as the flames caught but they didn't die down.

Because she wouldn't let them die down.

Screaming in pain all the while, runes carved into the entire length of her right arm lit up with power. The same amount of flame as had been sent at her remained upon her lower right arm only, almost as though it was contained. Despite this her right arm began to blacken along its entire length, as though the flames had continued.

Beneath the skin her muscles began to decay rapidly, eaten up not by the fire but by the runes she was feeding them to. She was running out of time... gritting her teeth, she saw Zachariah turn away from them, having dispensed with them for now.

She didn't waste time with a quip-y one-liner or with a scream of an attack to give it away. Instead she staggered to her feet and flung her right hand out towards his turned back. The energy that had been drained from her blood, her muscles, her bones, her pain and her will pushed into the flames. While Xunari might not have been able to produce dragon fire - she didn't need to when it was so helpfully provided for her.

All she needed to do was feed it with direct magical energy and launch it right back at it's point of origin. The green flames erupted from her hand, five times the size of the initial attack in a stream of emerald fire that streaked towards the knights back.

Her hand began to burn away to nothing but ash as she pushed the attack out with all of her might. Once it was fully unleashed she would fall backward slightly as her right arm would crumble away into ash, right up to her shoulder.

 

[Zeri Rekani]

There once was a great fire from the sky that saved Bhathairk.

Now, there was one that doomed it.

* * * * *​

Rodon Rekani was thrown to the ground when the force of Neha's flight struck him. As were other tribesorcs around him by Mhartoc's Stables--or, truly, what was left of it.

When Zeri disappeared, Pa had taken swift action. He told Rodon and Gurrash to go out searching along with him, while Ma said that she would stay at home in case Zeri returned. Pa wanted to leave Bhathairk as soon as possible, before another backup occurred at the Gates as it had when the Amalgamation had come. So Pa and Gurrash and Rodon spread out quickly, going to search all of the places Pa thought Zeri might have gone--and he did not suspect that she had gone far. Thus it was the hope of Pa and the brothers that they would find her and all reconvene back at their home and leave Bhathairk.

It was not so. The quakes progressed into something worse. Far worse.

And as Rodon stood, covered in dust and Ash and bruises dotting the skin of his body, he beheld the torrent of green flame that descended down from the horrific dragon whose very form enshadowed the sky. The last thing he heard was the plaintive and then sharp, tortured cries of the horses in the Stables before the flame enveloped him too.

* * * * *​

Gurrash Rekani tried to run. Picked himself up from the ground once the dragon had taken flight and ran through the devastated streets of Bhathairk and yelled his younger sister's name and to this he received no answer.

He was panicked. He wasn't brave at all. He was no warrior and he never wished to be one. All he enjoyed was the thrill of finishing a work of craftsmanship: a leather jerkin, a pair of moccasins, a new spear. He was even trying his hand at carpentry now, thinking as well of apprenticing in the discipline of engineering, and constructing homes and wagons and walls and bridges for his people.

He would go on to do none of these things.

Gurrash ran until he reached the end--the very end--of the street, which had become before him a cliff that dropped sharply down to a moat of lava far below. He cried out in frustration as the green flames, that baleful rolling tidal wave that had been chasing him, slammed into his back and he fell.

* * * * *​

Zeri was unconscious still.

What youthful beauty she might have had stolen away by the sickly paling of her skin in the shock which preceded her heart failure and the contrast of the corrupting bruises which drew dark islands upon this map of tragedy and the blood which masked her face and spidered down her neck and these crimson legs departing in their chaotic ways over her shoulder and her chest and to this army were auxiliaries of cuts and scrapes from her fall that did mar her body from her feet to her arms as well.

The embodiment of the fate of the weak in times as dire as these.

Szesh

 

[Zier Xya Zythos]

SOCNGHEXIFHRDLSNFCSL​

is only one way to describe what Zier was thinking when- Well, he can't tell from here, but a winged person descended upon the Empires forces, stole a weapon and flew back up to confront the creature again. The dragon literally held it's head high and spread it's enormous wings as if it was asserting dominance over the Empire, and this winged person threw a spear at it's head! Who would ev-

This was starting to look like a circus. Another pyromancer was flung from the dragon, almost to his death if it wasn't for his magic. When he finally landed on the ground, Zier let out a long, disappointed sigh as he shouted out at the dragon. He couldn't really hear what he said, but he DID hear RAT-LIZARD FUCK which was most likely the worst of his shouting.

No one looked to be attacking the dragon now, not that he can see. The Empire is gaining ground, but they haven't done anything to it yet. That just leaves Celestia, who threw that weapon at it's head. The spear was small, so it's implications are unknown. She'll be in trouble when the dragon acknowledges her existence. That being said

"MOVE! STOP ATTACKING IT! WHAT THE FUCK. YOU! WINGED MOTHER FUCKER, MOVE!!!"

Okay, wasn't the nicest way to put it, but come on? People messing around and attacking something that makes mountains look like ANTHILLS need some sense drilled into them. His warning most likely wasn't even heard, but he's gotta try.

(Also, again, ZERI JESUS CHRIST IMA CRY)​

 

[Lazule]

People spilled from the ruined Gates and walls. Mostly orcs, but elves and dwarves (and yes, humans as well). Allies of humanity, endowed with the sanctity of personhood all. They who possessed the capacity for goodness and virtue in their hearts.

They who Lazule was compelled to serve. Compelled to slay the wicked on their behalf. He knew none of their names, nor did he need to. In the defense of those innocent Lazule would give his life, and this sacrifice stirred within him no fear, for he had been born of the very same.

Lena. Adela. Zachariah. Ulric. Liam. Elijah.

The six had given their lives, and from them Lazule had been created. Yet one among them did not die willingly, did not sacrifice, had in truth been slain tragically by a monster: Lena. And it was Lena's Retribution that gave Lazule purpose. It was Lena's Retribution that Lazule would bring to these Dragons which tortured the very city that had (now in vain) been saved from the Amalgamation. This, or death. Caliane had taught him nuance of thought and discernment but here there was none. Here, Father's word ruled.

Slay. Until the Fire fades.

* * * * *​

Lazule noticed another, standing opposite the tide of fleeing civilians. And recognized him at once.

"Erën," Lazule called out to him. Then, an echo from the not so distant past, he spoke words that had been said in a body destroyed upon this very ground, "Suffer no remorse."

He watched as both his Javelin and Erën's beam were all but absorbed by the Black Dragon. Yet he could not let this deter him. All things died. That was an immutable law of Arethil, the sole hope of the weak to triumph over the powerful--for both shared the quality of mortality.

Lazule conjured more Javelins. Launched them one after another. Threw them at the Black Dragon and the Golden Dragon alike. Threw them as survivors from the ruinous calamities inside the city ran past him and Erën.

Another Mantra, spoken aloud: "Know that the poison of cruelty cannot be expunged, and that mercy is a thing--"

The gust of wind from the Black Dragon's awesome flight struck Lazule and he weathered it as the civilians around him fell and scattered and scrambled back to their feet.

He conjured another Javelin and threw it at the Golden Dragon and continued, "--most fragile. Here you find the signature of the Wicked, the Corrupted, the Monster, and this delineation..."

The green flame spewing forth from the Black Dragon's mouth reflected in the golden visor of Lazule's helm. Behind this visor Lazule watched the horror with the eyes of the Unknown Warrior, chiseled into that face the mark of unbreakable determination.

And Lazule gave in fully to Father's way upon seeing the devastation wrought upon the city.

"...is absolute."

Around his left arm he conjured the towering Shield of Light and braced himself for the coming of the flame. Erën he watched with concern. Concern for a friend.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Sepheron Neha

 

[Masaru]

​

Masaru looked at the large dragon and then the empire's forces. Then, he looked at the dragon. And then he looked back at the empire's forces.

Masaru beat his wings and ascended a few hundred feet higher.

The song he heard was just getting better. He wondered if his Bard friend could hear it. He was getting a little hungry too. Maybe they had good curry in Amol-Kalit.

His nostrils flared. Hmm, he could probably wait around a bit longer.

 

[Karanon Ulventhral]

​

Nothing. The bolt hadn't effected the warrior at all even as he defended against other attacks and then conjured another blast of fire against the dark elves around him. As this powerful foe started to saunter off, Karanon took aim again. This time at the package strapped to his back which Zathria had seemed intent upon liberating moments ago. Even then, the dark elf didn't really understand why he was kneeling there, participating in what must have seemed a hopeless battle to all who could observe. Maybe, after his experiences with Commander Tor'Rahel and her allies in the Underrealm, he had learned to keep hope, even against impossible odds. Or maybe it was instinct, the last desperate attempt to retain his sanity after seeing a dragon the size of Zar'Ahal itself. Just point and shoot at the thing you can understand. Don't dwell overmuch on that which is-

FOOM! ​

The forceful gust of wind caused by the massive monstosity's take off into the air sent the drow flying backwards into the outskirts of Bhathairk proper. For the mound he had knelt upon laid some distance between it and the place where the other drow had confronted the strange fighter. He had fallen to the ground and continued to roll from the force with which he was thrown. He ended up on the collapsed and broken remnants of rooftops whose lower levels hand sunken and crashed down into the distryoted earth earlier. Shaerra was nowhere in sight. And the drow male lay unconscious with a crossbow bolt lodged in his right lower leg.

 

[Kara Orin]

Zier's words were too late. The spear Celestia shot entered Drakormir’s ear.

And that was when the song Masaru heard turned violent. It called for the death of everyone everything here.

Drakormir threw His head back and roared. And roared.

It flapped its wings. And again. And again. Winds rivaling the most devastating typhoons swept across the area. In mere seconds, these winds picked up the fine sand of the desert. In effect, a storm formed.

And it raged.

The gusts swirled in chaotic directions. For reasons unknown to the mortals below, lightning and thunder tore through the clouds.

The sandstorm threatened to swallow the Empire. Those airborne or not sufficiently grounded were threatened to be tossed to the horizon. May Gerra forgive Celestia, if they survive.

As the storm began, Drakormir took flight. Those that somehow still managed to cling to the dragon would find themselves rushing through the dust and seeing the clear desert sky in mere seconds. Drakormir continued to roar as it began to head east-northeast.

To a source of magic He sensed. To Elbion.

His path would take Him near Thakath. Pray He never learns the city’s allegiances.
The Empire Elbion College

---

In the ruins beneath the Forbidden City, the mural would illuminate once Tereth Adathar got close to the pedestal. First, the dragon was illuminated. Then, the figures of the ancient people of the Forbidden City. Then, the people with tails. Then, the multiple spears in the carving. All illuminated with a golden glow.

After that, the lines from the spear wounds to the pool lit up. Yet this time, the light was a crimson hue. Once the pool at the bottom of the mural shined a solid red, the chains for the dragon lit up in a dark red.

Lastly, text in the ancient language of the Forbidden City appeared.

With his children’s blood and great sacrifice, we imprisoned the tyrant.
We could not slay it.
We pray you who reads this found the way.​

Once Tereth touched the spear, a mechanism swiftly emerged from the pedestal and attempted to grasp his wrist. If it succeeded, something the size of a seamstress’s needle would pierce his flesh before releasing him.

If Tereth avoided this, then the ruins would begin to stir…

 

[Szesh]

Szesh painfully sat up. His ears rang loudly, and it was becoming difficult to breath, and rasping coughs wracked him every few seconds. He blinked through his blurry eyes and looked down at the limp bundle in his arms.

Zeri did not move, her eyes did not open. Her body hung slack and unmoving. With quickening breath, Szesh called her name. When she did not answer, he pressed his palm to her chest, his fingers nearly wrapping around her entire ribcage.

There was nothing. No heartbeat, and no breath. Zeri was gone.

He bowed his head, but his grief was tempered by the desperate need to leave this place. Another burst of wind popped his ears, and though he could not hear it, he could feel the city crumble behind him. He could feel an incredible heat with a green light, feel the wind rush past him and then get sucked back in to feet the fires.

Zeri deserved to be laid to rest with her family, with her people. Szesh considered leaving her body where they knelt. He would not have time to bury her. He looked back, and had to squint against the glow. Bathairk was gone. There was only the dragon and the ashes. He leaned down, all he had to do was let her go, and she would be consumed by fire as well.

He couldn’t do it. He could not leave her cold and alone. He cursed himself in his head for his sentimentality. Had this happened only a couple of years prior he would not have bothered to save her in the first place, but recent events had eroded his barriers. Made him soft. ”We will come back,” he said to her blank face, not knowing if he could keep this promise.

He stood, holding Zeri’s remains as gently as if she still breathed. Wings spread, and in spite of the tremendous pain in his bones, his lungs, and everything between, he clumsily took flight. He flew low and fast, seeking to put as much distance between him and the Devourer as he could. The portal stone was his only hope.

| Zeri Rekani

​

 

[Zier Xya Zythos]

Fuck.

He couldn't really blame it for wanting to murder everyone here. They assumed it evil because it was large and terrifying so they instantly sought to slay it. Idiots.

I hereby hate everyone here. For good reason though. No one enjoys getting killed by someone else's mistake. His eyes widened as the beast threw his head back. This was it. This is the moment he knew would come. The dragons roar could be heard from Elbion, but here, calling it deafening would be an understatement. He heard three seconds of that immense roar and he threw his hands over his ears as they started to ring, followed by agonizing pain. This isn't very good for an elf.

Needless to say that he has a few beautiful, totally calm words for Celestia if he ever got the chance.

He kept his hands over his ears as the wind started to pick up rapidly. He knew what would become of him if he anchor himself to the ground. Being a Pyromancer has it's perks. A variation of that is lava manipulation. That diverts into several branches that he has yet to master. Luckily for him, sand managed to be one of those branches.

As the wind grew violent, Zier shifted his feet apart, activating his magic as the sand crept up his ankles, knees and stopping at around mid thigh. It twisted and compacted until he was securely mounted onto the ground. He won't go flying, but he tried his best to keep his upper body firm and upright so it wouldn't go every which way. He kept his eyes shut so he wouldn't get sand in them. Even though his ears were covered, the dragons powerful roar could still be heard, and it sounded like it was taking flight! FUCK I CAN'T STAY HERE FOR LONG! He can't see, hear that well AND he's being bombarded with a sandstorm while there's a colossal dragon in the air? Things don't seem like they can get much worse, yet he's certain, thanks to others, that it can.

Thunder and lightning... isn't that nice... Much worse yet?

He couldn't leave the rest empty handed, so he made sure that those who traveled with him from Elbion were secured with sand as well. As for anyone else? Well they caused this so they can politely go wedge themselves WAYYYY up the dragons a-