“Haaaaaaaaaahhh…..” With a deep exhalation, Pluton turned his gaze back up towards the remaining nineteen draconic protectors of this green realm. As he breathed out, a hellish cocktail of compounds and magic flowed out in a heavy cloud, quickly flowing to the ground and spreading out across the floor of the jungle.

Unfurling his wings, Pluton turned the rest of his body to face the rough direction of the rest of the (hopefully) soon-to-be-eaten dragons, shaking off the odd, tingling sensation that came as he finished digesting his most recent meal. His power was increasing, and more of the dead dragon’s knowledge was becoming his own, but it was altered just enough that it was his, and not that of his former foe.

He was fully in control of his own mind, his body being entirely his own, with the soul of the dead dragon being ripped apart and used however his internal structure demanded. There would be no takeover of his body like some might expect, instead, he was just using the remains of his meal as fuel for his growing fire, letting the traces of who his meal once was be erased, sacrificed on the alter that was his single-minded hunger to return to his old job.

“Witness… despair.” He growled as the same fog that was billowing from his open maw began to flow from his scales.

“Despair?! What do you think you are doing?!”

Pluton didn’t respond with a witty one-liner, instead amplifying the amount of black and purple fog that was coming from his massive body. It flowed over the ground and swirled around, forming what almost looked like tormented faces as it danced along the floor of the jungle. Where it went, plants withered and died, only to spring back to life in twisted mockeries of what they once were. Likewise, the bones of long-since-dead creatures, be they whole, mere fragments, or long since reduced to dust, began to come together, first forming the skeletons of the creatures they once were a part of before joining into larger, more unnatural arrangements.

Eventually, the chimeric constructs of bone finished forming themselves, and now the numerical advantage of the Forest Dragons was lost entirely. What was once a 19 on 1 fight was now a roughly 80 on 19 fight, in Pluton’s favor, and this was without counting the dracolich himself among that number as well. However, the skeletal chimeras were not meant to be a real threat. Compared to their opponents, they were woefully inadequate, essentially being nothing more than minor irritants to the Forest Dragons.

However, they would be able to do some damage if they were allowed to, and in their numbers, that had a real possibility of happening. Of course, their purpose was never meant to be anything more than a diversionary tactic to draw the attention of the Forest Dragons while Pluton went in for the kill. As they took flight, Pluton remained on the ground and waited for the perfect opportunity to sneak out of sight and out of mind, the tactical experience of his most recent prey showing the extent that his new abilities let him grow with but a single, high-value meal.

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…

“Annoying… gnats…!”

“Gah! How dare a mere skeleton scratch my scales?!”

“Stay… still!”

The Forest Dragons had managed to down at least half of the flying skeletal chimeras, but they had taken more than a few scratches as a result. The wounds were nothing major, mostly being purely cosmetic, but those injuries that did break the skin were painful indeed. Perhaps they had grown rather unused to pain during their ages of sleep, or maybe they were more used to dishing out pain than receiving it.

Or perhaps they were just a bunch of bullies who never had to face the same pain that they liked to dish out. Either way, it didn’t matter, as they kept taking scratch after scratch as the boney beasts made endless suicidal attack runs at them. However, whether they were aware of it or not, the Forest Dragons were being gradually forced together into a tighter and tighter group.

Finally, in one last dumbass suicide move, the skeletal chimeras rushed towards the gathered Forest Dragons in a rather peculiar patterns. This pattern was just collected enough for the dragons to be able to use their breath to take them all down at once if they fired their attacks off at the same time. The flying bone-creatures were far enough away that a good and focused wind-up could be done before the undead reached their targets, allowing for the Forest Dragons to completely erase their presence from the world.

However, they had, in their battle against the nuisances that Pluton had created, that Pluton even existed. And, as they all floated in mid-air in one great gathering, a sense of imminent doom fell over all of them while they charged their breath. They were all gathered together, meaning that they could not easily scatter as Pluton sped like a big, black, scaly comet from high altitudes towards them, and their charging breath attack further hindered their ability to respond with magic of a different kind.

All they could do was flail around and try to move away while desperately trying to halt their own breath attack even as their bile and fury built up inside their throats, and this combination made them perfect targets for the incoming bringer of doom, despair, and death. Around ten of the nineteen managed to flounder their way apart from the collection, eventually letting out a wildly inaccurate and poorly directed breath in multiple different directions. Only a few of these attacks struck any kind of target worth mentioning, with the majority of the caustic bile being shot out like flailing water hoses with spray nozzles attached. As for the nine that failed to get far enough away, four were hit by the full mass of Pluton as he barreled into the group, while the rest either sustained heavy injuries or were miraculously able to emerge with glancing, yet moderate, damage.

…

With two heads in his talons and one neck in his jaws, Pluton’s captured foes dragged another down to the ground with them, or rather, underneath them, until they all acted as a morbid cushion for their killer as they ended their lives with a mass of crunching squelching, and shredding sounds.

This time, his foes would not stand idly by and let Pluton feed, or at least they would have had the skeletal chimeras not immediately started harassing them. And, with that welcome distraction, Pluton began to devour his prey, with even more fog beginning to billow out from him, adding yet more undead to the party. His single-minded pawns would keep his foes busy while he consumed the flesh and bones and even the souls of these smaller dragons, their strength to be broken down and added to his own after being made entirely his own.

The battle in the sky raged on, and the graveyard that was the jungle only provided more bodies to throw at the problem until it would eventually go away, one way or another.