Scales and Honor: Swirling Storm
Chapter 24
Ramakox beat his membranes against the cool night air, although the chill that wrapped itself firmly around him he doubted came from the sky beneath his wings. He stared out to the vast darkened countryside that he called his domain with anxious breaths, pounding away at the sky with every intake of air that filled his lungs. He had never been more determined to reach somewhere since the night Imzel died, the image of her lifeless form appeared before, reminding him of that failure. He pushed her dead eyes from his head to instead focus on the darkened treetops, the muted hills, and the mountaintops that seemed to be coated in the nights dark cloak. Everything that seemed except for bright shining town of Eastcliff.
The small town that he had seen grow over the years was lit up like a vast beacon in the dark land. One where darkness could not even rear it's ugly head. If this were any other night Ramakox might have thought some sort of festival was going on with the amount of light being shed onto every building. If he stared he could see the flames dancing in the distance, the red-orange flames that slowly were enveloping almost every building that he could see. They waved and curled into the night air, plumes of blackened smoke rising up from other sections and making terror worm it's way into his heart. He snorted , pushing the slight soreness of his wings away, for he knew in his hearth he had to get there. Not just for the town he cared for but for his mate and son who were caught up down in that chaotic mess that was threatening to take everything he had worked for.
With each anxious breath and beat of his wings his worry continued to grow. They had been flying for over an hour now, the pegasus riders and he. The horses could certainly fly faster then him, but Stonebeard had shot that idea down. Instead insisting that they all arrive together and not in piecemeal to be cut down, since their own numbers were so dwindled. So with another eager flap Ramakox led them across the darkened sky, like some great alpha of a pack of beaten wolves out to try and save the rest of their fellow kin. It was the silence from them that ate away at his nerves. The guardsman that rode with worried faces, and hands on their mounts reins as they passed over hilltops and forests below. Ramakox felt sorry for these mortals with him, for they lacked the healing that he had been provided with, the armor of his mighty scales, and had no wings of their own to help them. Although here they are anyway, ready to trade their lives to save the others of your town. He growled in the back of his throat, making a silent vow to see them through this to the end, and hopefully not have anymore be added to the list of the dead that he was responsible for.
Only Stonebeard it seemed could speak, filling the silence with curses, shouts, and complaints over having to ride the flying steed instead of his. “Trust horse that he could rely on.” As they neared the town glowing with dreadful fires, Ramakox wished that the silence would have remained, for when he heard the first scream of many he felt his scales shiver and shake. It was like a symphony of pain and misery that struck a spear right through the mighty dragon's heart. He bared his teeth, letting electricity spark around them for a moment as he felt the raging fire within him stir and grow in size. His next breath brought the arid smell of the smoke wafting through the air. It stung his nose something awful and made him snort in displeasure, with narrowed eyes he recognized the stench of blood lingering in the air, and that raging fire only consumed his very mind. For he remembered that promise to Lord Aster, and he could not wait to sink his sharpened talons or teeth into those that would harm woman and children casually like one would cut down wheat for the harvest.
“By Thor's beard.” Stonebeard uttered in a near whisper, the usual bravado that he had been spouting lost for a moment as he clutched at a pendant of a hammer around his neck. “I didn tink dey were dis big of a threat.” The dwarf stared to the large ruined buildings that were consumed with flames. It looked more like hell itself was rising from the ground to snatch away the structures.“Look at what deyve done.” There was a quick murmur among the guardsman as their pegasi kept pace with the blue dragon. Their wing-beats doing nothing it seemed to sooth the mortal's concern.
“Well it don matter!” Stonebeard shouted, finding his courage from a moment of stunned silence and whipping wind. “We got da mighty Swirlin Storm wit us! An top o dat we got another bonnie lass of a dragon down there as we speak! You can also bet we got us a finger twiddler of the 'ighest caliper as well. Jandar da travlin mage!” The dwarf unbound the spear from his back, holding it in firm hands as he thrust it into the night above his head. “So the lot of ya best be ready to crack some skulls or stab a few of dem cultist, dress wearing bastards, cause ole Stormbeard is lookin ta force my spear into dose cultists and it be a dam shame lads. I didn bring any lube for dem!”
Ramakox snorted as a cheer resounded from the guard, casting away their worry to the winds with the next beat of the dragon's wings. His eyes scanned the damaged buildings in the distance, the vast flames that seemed to dot every building with their red fury. He could see crowds of mortals littering every street like little ants scurrying around, but from this distance he could not make out who was friend and which of those were foes. Another resounding shriek into the night made him briefly look up to the vast sky that should have been clear, but instead finding that large billowing storm clouds hung overhead and were rumbling their fury across the land.
“So what be da plan dragon?” Stonebeard's pegasus carried him closer to the dragon's head with a snort.
Ramakox continued to eye the numerous craters that he could see, the ruined rock that seemed to be ripped from the streets by some great animal or beast. Those were where the dragon powder went off. He spotted one where the town hall should have been, the building only half standing and in shambles with flames consuming what was left of the building's tattered shell. “I think we find a place of resistance down there.” He grumbled, hoping with his bones that Jandar and Fremra were safe and well admist the chaos and destruction that plagued his town. “Then we coordinate with the survivors, and we make a strong push back against their forces. We make them pay for every drop of Eastcliff blood that has been spilled this night. That is until we retake the town and raise our flags high.”
“Sounds mighty good Swirlin Storm...but what about your bonnie lass?” Stonebeard pointed out to the sky right above the fire filled town. “I don't see her flying around at da moment, you tink dey got her?”
“No.” He snapped quickly, not really believing the certainty of his words the moment they left his maw. “They have to be...Both her and Jandar.” he shook his head with his next wing flap, trying to cast the image of their broken and bleeding bodies from his mind. “I bet on my scales if anyone done there is alive, it will be my wonderful Sea Lilly and my son.
“You're an optimistic dragon I'll give ya that. Never thought I woulda taken ya for one.”
“It's not just that.” he growled. “Both of them have proved they are very hard to kill over the years. “It's using that fact to make an educated guess.”
“Well nights have a mighty way of turnin when ya least expect it.” Stonebeard turned to the others with a large grin and gestured to the town once more. “First we find the survivors holding out, we get their bums out of the fire so to speak. Den we start ta make out push to these bastard backsides! So the lot of ya grab yer bows, javelins, and let me know...Are ya ready?”
“Aye!” Came the shouts of the handful of guardsman, Milalee included from his right. Their voices all combined into one resounding roar, filling Ramakox's heart with warmth and casting away the cold if just for the moment.
Good. Ramakox spread his wings wide, entering a glide as he started to descend towards the village that grew closer with each passing moment. When they drew closer those little ants of unrecognizable shapes soon changed into that of wicked mortals in dark leathers and white tabards or cloaks. They carried sharp curved weapons or flaming torches, and were using them to light the streets with devastation. The smell of smoke got worse as he heard the shout of “Dragon!” ring through the collection of mortals below them. Several arrows were loosed towards he and his collection of riders, but from this distance they easily avoided them with hardly any effort.
To the dragon's horror it looked as though those that had resisted the attack were already dead in their homes, or littered the street with their mangled corpses. He felt the flames rise in his chest ever more as he opened his maw wide, and let the bright electricity dance around his teeth and light up his wings like a vast star in the dark night. With an almost grin of satisfaction he let fly his great beam of pure electric fury. The white cackling attack catching a group of cultists as he descended like some great angel of death, forcing them to twitch and spasm in place until collapsing to the cobblestone dead.
“That's the way!” Milalee shouted from her pegasus, as she and several guardsman pulled back the arrows of their knocked bows, and let fly their projectiles into wicked mortal throats as they closed in on the burning streets.
They avoided and dodged several more volley's of arrows as they passed quickly over the ruined rooftops of the homes of Eastcliff. Each one a reminder to the dragon that precious lives were being snuffed out this evening. Each one he had helped build and shape over the last few years, and making him clench his claws out of rage. The riders beside him let fly with arrows or javelins as they continued their pass, catching unaware raiders in throat, chest, or sometimes even head with sickening success. The blue dragon was not idle with his scanning of the debris laden streets, hoping for any sign of those he loved. He let fly more bolts of lightning to ease his concern, each time finding some new raider to destroy with his powerful strikes of draconic fury.
Fremra should be here. His mind whispered to him as he blew apart a surprised group of cultists with another breath of his lightning. They did not even get a chance to call out the typical “Dragon!” which was being shouted out each time they passed another group. Stonebeard was correct in his assumption...If she was able to..She would be here right now...This is her home...and She would not give it up without one hell of a fight. His eyes finally found a small section of the chaos filled town that looked to be well maintained. There was a large tavern standing strong against the tide of raiders and cultists hooting and hollering outside the dark wooden structure.
The tavern's sign rattled as a fireball exploded close to it, taking several cultists lives with the brilliant red-orange explosion. The sign had the image of a blue dragon grinning, with the letters stamped below it in bright white. “The Grinning Dragon.”
“Dragon!” came the loud cries of his attackers as he and knights easily sailed over their heads, starting to rain their destruction onto the wicked mortals. The attackers took cover as arrows found their way into exposed shoulders, chests, or even groins, causing shouts for them to find cover to echo through the air.
From the grinning dragon's windows came a series of arrows, along with at least four bolts of multicolored magical beams. The red hand's forces were forced to pull back behind turned over crates, large sections of debris, or large crates to shield themselves from the combined attack of the defenders, the dragon, and riders overhead.
“Yeah, take that ya sissies!” Cried a brown bearded dwarf from the tavern, sporting an eye patch and a nose ring of bright silver. “No one burns da place with da drinks on me watch!” The man turned back towards his unseen helpers. “Nice shot dere boyos!”
“Dey still holdin out.” Stonebeard grinned. “I can't believe it...Course deres a dwarf dere so dat be the reason!”
Ramakox angled a wing as a volley of arrows let fly and easily missed his sensitive membranes by feet. He arched his neck and returned the attack with a great bolt of electricity, sending several cultists diving for cover before getting blasted to death. His eyes continued to desperately search the streets as he dove down, slashing two mortals with his claws and sending their limp bodies flying to the ground several yards away.
“Get the hun-” a large half-orc man went to shout with his face smeared in dried blood. Those words were all he got out before a passing pegasus knight tossed a javelin straight through his heart. The man's sounds that followed were pain filled groans as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the weapon that had felled him.
“Swirling Storm is here!” Came a loud resounding cheer from the tavern as the blue dragon swooped through the smoke billowing out from a building across the street. Several cultists let out brief screams before he dove into them, his claws tasting their blood before he bit down onto the last of their number with his jaws. He held the kicking man until his legs ceased their struggles, tossing the limp corpse back onto onto the street and snarling loudly into the night.
The pegasus knights above circled the tavern, raining death by javelin or arrow to the immediate area around the tavern, their agile mounts easily avoiding any return fire from the cultist attackers below. It was almost sad to watch as the mortals below were falling to the withing attack, and cried out their misfortune for all to hear with cracking voices.
Good. Ramakox mind snarled as he bound into another of their groups with a powerful beat of his wings. He ripped them to gruesome pieces one by one like an animal, slicing through flesh and bone, tossing those that remained around like little rag dolls with a mighty swing of his tail. They let out screams as they flew through the air, before smacking hard into walls with sickening thuds then slumping down to the earth without another sound. There was a single one among their number that held up a thin piece of wood towards the sky. His thin hands flicking the wand and summoning forth red sparks that flew upwards to explode high above their heads and paint a large arcane symbol in the air. It shimmered and sparkled as it hovered silently like an ominous sentinel.
A wand? The blue dragon questioned himself briefly before the man who had summoned the symbol dashed away and out of sight, dropping his longsword to the ground with a loud clatter. “That's right flee!” Ramakox rose his head into the air, letting out a threatening roar that shook the very cobblestone beneath his claws. He spread his wings wide, letting electricity spring forth from his maw, causing his membranes to light up the night. He would have roared again if not for the loud slamming noise behind him that sounded the tavern, drawing his interest.
From the bastion of defiance came a plethora of multicolored mortals streaming through the door. They had many different weapons clutched in eager hands. Some even having shields that had the blue dragon's likeness on them, clearly purchased in town. “For Eastcliff!” their cries combining together to form a single roar that brought warmth to the dragon's heart. With the attackers pinned, the collection of mortals and guard among their number crashed into the cowering cultists with sword and shield. They made quick work of the vulnerable attackers, and in a matter of moments the night was filled with the sounds of swords slicing flesh, shouts of victory, and blood being spilled onto the ground.
“Now dats what I like ta see!” Stonebeard shouted from above as he and his knights circled the collection of cheering mortals who had cleared the street around the grinning dragon. The mortals had seemed to have retained most of their numbers, quickly taking positions to observe the streets, heal up their wound with flashes of soft white light, or even some of the more roguish looking ones starting to loot the fallen for any treasures that could be found.
“Don't get too complacent.” Ramakox grumbled, landing with a back-wing and a series of cheers praising the very scales that lined his body. He hid the trill that would have slipped from his maw with a snort and gave a stern look as he gazed out to the gleaming faces of all the mortals before him. They appeared to be glad they were defending the town he loved with smirks or grins adorning their joyous faces. “If this enemy is worth anything..Then this is not the end.” He gestured to the great red symbol still lingering in the sky by that man's wand with an arch of his scaled neck. “I bet on my scales they will be regrouping this very moment now that they know where to concentrate their forces. So keep your eyes peeled for their return” He drummed his talons against the stone with series of soft clacks, remembering the times that the undead had done something similar. They would lull the soldiers into a false sense of victory, then spring their trap once they were good and ready.
“You 'eard da dragon!” Stonebeard shouted with a wave of his spear. “Keep ya eyes peeled the lot of ya!” The dwarves pegasus landed with a series of clomps as it's hooves struck the ground. “Now you lot over dere! You helpin us? Then listen ta orders. I want da lot of ya over dere.” The dwarf pointed to a series of mortals clad with worn leathers and strung bows with a growl. “And da ones with the armor and shield! Yes you, Mr bright hair, I said move it!”
Ramakox strolled passed them towards the tavern as Stonebeard continued to shout and order the collection of adventurers, most of them snapping to his commands fairly quickly and moving to where the shouting dwarf was pointing. His eyes scanned all the elves, humans, and wolven that seemed to be streaming from the tavern, carrying weapons of various size and quality. All their faces had the same smiles or grins as those before them, but they all shared the same tiredness lurking behind their eyes. Ramakox felt his heart start to quicken as the dwarves shouts started to fade from his mind. With each passing mortal his breaths grew shorter and shorter, for he could not find Jandar among their number.
Maybe he is somewhe-
“Ramakox!” Came a joyous cry from the tavern doors. The half-dragon he loved racing out with a large grin on his scaled snout. His ornate leather armor was all covered in scars and burn marks, clearly from the night's attack, as Jandar would have never let something dirty or blemished linger for that long.
“Jandar!” Ramakox cried, tears nearly summoned to his silvered eyes as his heart threatened to spill from his chest as he bound towards the mortal who had spread his arms wide.
“I nearly feared that you'd..” The half dragon wrapped his arms around the blue's forelimb seconds before Ramakox rose up and pulled the once human into a tight hug.
“You thought me? I thought that you were you stupid human.” he chuckled weakly, his despair melting away with each breath his mortal took. “And you shouldn't have used my name in front of so many people.” he weakly chuckled, teasing the mortal wiggling in his grasp. “I am glad you're safe Jandar.” he lowered his voice to a near whisper, nuzzling the mortal who had started to caress his snout that made his tail twitch and a small purr resound in his throat.
They stayed like that for a moment or two, locked within each other's embrace as the destruction of the city and shouts were all but forgotten. With a snort he placed the mortal back down to the ground. They were in the middle of a battle after all, and he did have his image to maintain. “Good to see that you're safe Jandar.” he repeated with a more serious sounding snort, gazing out to the town that seemed more ruins and crackling flames then anything else he remembered. “And that the training we did payed off. What happened here?”
“Explosions went off while ago.” Jandar pointed to the debris littering the streets. “Took out the town hall and the guard barracks just like that.” the half-dragon snapped his fingers together. “Then their people seemed to pour from every street corner and hidden pathway. It appears as though they have been sneaking in for days with their apparent numbers.”
“I thought that as well.” Ramakox snorted, the itch beneath his scales returning and making his tail twitch. He wondered if he would ever truly be safe from the red hand's reach. To sneak in so many that they had an army? After tonight they would have to go over the town's weapon policy. He sighed as a piece of a ruined building collapsed with a loud cracking of wood that echoed through the air. If there is a town left after this. “What of Fremra?” he tried to mask the dread in his words, but by the expression on the half-dragon's snout it appeared as though he failed.
“She's in the tavern Storm. Took a big hit when the attack started, but she got away. Transformed into an elf and made her way to us rather quickly.” Jandar thumbed back towards the structure. “Healers tending to her right now. She got a rather nasty dose of dragon's bane poison. She claims the leader of the groups a woman wearing a green cloak with the symbol of a lion holding a sword and shield.
“Hmmpf.” Ramakox flicked his tail as he watched the embers from the fire float away into the night sky. If it was not currently destroying his home he might have even called it beautiful. “So it appears as they have dragon hunters then...It looks like the red hand thought of everything.” he growled in the back of his throat as he pictured Lord Aster mocking him from death with that coarse laugh.
“Everything but you living it seems...I take it a group went out to try and kill you while you were being held captive?” the half-dragon looked up, tilting his head to the side as some adventures with bright green goggles and flamboyant leather armor walked by.
“Evidently so..And yes they did try that.” Ramakox paused, shivering as he recalled all the dead guardsmen that had paid for his survival. “Killed Lord Aster while he was there...Horrific Wilting did the trick..He is nothing but a shriveled husk now.”
“Good.” Jandar loudly spat a wad of saliva onto the stone with a wet plop. “Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.” The half-dragon placed a claw softly on Ramakox's shoulder soon after with a sigh. “Course after they hit Fremra, those group of dragon hunters have not been seen too much. It appears as though they have no interest in burning EastCliff to the ground.”
“A noble dragon hunter?” Ramakox grumbled in a growly sort of way. “Only paid to kill the dragon I suppose, so that's all they lift a sword to do.” He turned back to the mortal with a drum of his claws. “How is Fremra now? Is she able to stand?” He focused on a large fire across the way that rose into the sky with little red-orange serpents.
“I can go check on her, she was coherent a few minutes ago before you arrived to save the day.”
“Good.” Ramakox sighed in relief. “We will need her nature magic to put out the flames..I think a nice torrential downpour will do the trick...I always loved the rain.”
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“No you didn't” Jandar punched him playfully. “You only like it now because of a teal dragoness that it reminds you of.”
“I admit nothing.” he looked away with a snort and swish of his tail, a growl forming in the back of throat. “Of course it would not be so wrong.”
“Of course Storm, maintain the dragon dignity and all..” Jandar laughed, then turned to the destruction laden streets. The mortals gaze lingered there for a moment or two in silence before his brow wrinkled and he let out a long drawn out sigh that lingered in the air. “Kind of hard to believe this is happening..Eastcliff...Look at it storm.” Jandar's eyes wavered over the burning buildings, the ruined houses, his tail slightly twitching behind him. “First Imzel..Now my home...” The man grew silent once more as the sounds of Stonebeard ordering people around sounded nearby.
“Don't worry Jandar...These are just buildings. They can be rebuilt if given enough time and work...But the lives?” Ramakox's silver spheres fell to the corpses of the townsfolk that had already lost their lives, and scattered around like forgotten dolls. “Those are the most important...and not so easily replaced...” He turned back to Jandar with a little snort of air escaping his nostrils. He may have looked a little more vulnerable as he peered down to the mortal, the itch beneath his scales coming back to annoy him and making him shiver. But how could he not look vulnerable in a time such as this? So many dead that were now laid out before him. The lives that were all dead because of him. The lives that he had failed. “Did anyone else make it out? I shutter to think that everyone else is dead.”
“Yes actually. We funneled many out through the basement of the tavern. You wouldn't believe the shouting captain Fenix did.
“How did you sneak them out through the basement?” Ramakox tilted his head to the side as a few mortals walked passed him with gawking eyes.
“Yes we snuck them out....Apparently Bob the innkeeper was smuggling potions and other illicit goods into town through an underground tunnel that he had some druids dig. So we used to get woman, children, and any sick or elderly out through there as the fighting raged on. Thanks to that man there a lot of people that are still alive and kicking instead of cut to pieces, burned, or currently choking on the smoke.”
“Good.” Ramakox quickly added with a sigh that brought a small comfort to his head. Like Jandar had said, it wasn't much...But it was something.The red hand wouldn't completely win this night.
“Put yer back into it!” Stonebeard shouted out to a collection of mortals who were currently dragging a large cart across the cobblestone to form a semicircle for archers and various other ranged combatants to use as cover.
“Who are they anyway?” Ramakox asked, looking out to the mortals all working together to try and protect this final refuge from the evils of the red hand. He gestured out to the multicolored humanoids. “So many different colors, heraldry, they look to be from all over the countryside.”
“That a matter of fact happens to be the case actually.” Jandar laughed, pointing to a man clad in half-plate who bore a blue tabard. “These are the fruits of our labor storm. What you see before you are all the adventurers that were inspired by my own tales and your stories. They are all in different times of their careers. Some are just starting out, while some have been at it for years. Each one came here to learn about the Swirling Storm, the dragon who trained the mage who spread his name and deeds across the countryside and beyond. So here they are, acting like the heroes in those stories that you told me oh so long ago.”
“Hmmpff.” the blue dragon looked away as his heart started to grow warm, and he shifted his weight from one claw to the other. He could feel the pride swelling up his chest as he gazed out to working mortals supposedly inspired by his deeds. So not everything that became of my actions was bad. We at least inspired some other mortals to take up various weapons and try to be heroes. “Well they certainly got what they asked for this night.” he grumbled as Stonebeard started throwing out curses left and right once again, his face growing more red with each passing moment.
“You should go tell Fremra that I am most fine. She must be ever so troubled as you were that something rotten happened to me on that trip to the capital.” He refolded his wings against his back, letting out a long yawn as he shook his head in place.
“I will...But you know that when I do she will walk out to come see you. No matter what condition she is in.” Jandar crossed his arms with a smirk, letting out a small chuckle. “She loves you Storm..and I fear for the people that try and stop her from getting to see you.”
Ramakox just snorted his approval before letting out a small rumble from his throat that made his claws twitch. His head perked up as a loud drowning horn sounded through the night, and the droning stead sound of marching came soon after and made his scales tremble. He had heard that sound many times, years ago when he had battled the undead armies of old. It was the sound to reform and head back into battle. “You best go get her quickly.” Ramakox growled, lowering himself and baring his teeth at the approaching enemy forces. “I think our mutual friends are going to be coming back in force.” When the mortal did not move at first he nosed him in the back of his wings. “Hurry!” He hissed as he heard the steady sound of marching feet, and another wailing cry from their horn of battle.
“Form up!” Milalee shouted down to the collection of grinning humans, the fact they were about to be in battle seemingly lost among them.
“Aye, ya heard da elf! Ready yer spells...Clerics, best get yer heals ready!” Stormbeard chimed in, cupping his mouth with his hands.
Ramakox just snorted as he felt the first droplets of water splatter against his snout, as the sky above seemed to open up and unleash it's wet contribution to the ensuing battle. It was not enough to put out the flames that danced in defiance of the wet payload, but it was still enough to drench everything else it touched. Good..It will make an excellent conductor for my electricity..I almost feel bad for them.
“Stand firm!” He shouted out, flicking his tail behind him as he narrowed his eyes towards the incoming sounds. He spread his wings as the mortals formed a ring around the remaining tavern with their weapons held tight, and vigilant eyes seemingly watching every corner for signs of movement. It did not take long for another horn to echo through the night air, as a horde of mortals marched around the last corner before the tavern. They carried large wooden shields at the front all painted different shades and colors. Not a single one shared the same heraldry. In their hands were long swords, with spears flanked close behind them. The mortals marched down the street towards them, the sound of their clinking chain mail or scale armor mixing in with their footsteps. Near the front they carried a large billowing white standard with the symbol of a red clenching fist splattered on it's surface. With the shade it was, it appeared to have been made with blood, and that fact made Ramakox clench his teeth, narrow his eyes, and angrily flick his tail as he unleashed a drawn out growl.
The dragon's eyes searched the wicked looking mortals. He traced every rugged or stern faced mortal among the bunch, looking for any sign of a leader or a person of power among them. He shook his head as he could not find a single one among their number that he could pick out and choose to be a target of interest. The enemy it seemed was playing it smart, and it irritated him that there was no sign of the hunters that had plucked Fremra from the sky.
“Ready yer weapons!” Stonebeard shouted to the gathered masses of multi raced adventurers. He pointed to the collection of ones holding either longbows or crossbows held within their tight hands. “Get ready to loose yer bolts and arrows on my mark!”
This can't be it.” Ramakox's mind whispered to him as he scanned the rooftops for any sign of movement. Any shimmer that might draw his eyes and reveal an invisible foe. He thought he heard the squawk of a gryphon before a mortal in their ranks rose a horn to his lips and blew that sound to announce their arrival.
“We can do this!” a mortal clad in splint mail said. The worry present in the half-elves voice as Ramakox saw him shiver, his hands trembling and struggling to hold onto his sword.
“Don't worry little one.” Ramakox uttered with a voice brimming with confidence. If they needed someone to help lift their spirits, then it should be the dragon to do it. He was the Swirling Storm after all. He looked to the approaching mass of cultists, all formed up and in formation as they diligently walked like a well oiled machine. So they want to stand right there in the open when facing a force that has a dragon such as I at their disposal? He opened his glands to draw electricity to his teeth, the crackling of the energy as it danced around his teeth was music to his ears. He narrowed his eyes as with his next breath he pictured all the formless lives that the red hand had taken over the years. With a flick of his tail and quick snort his sympathy was dashed from the corners of his mind. Die.
He let forth his bright light of pure fury towards the gathered mass of red hand. It lit up the destroyed streets and ruined buildings as it shot passed almost too quickly for mortal eyes to trace. It looked like it was going to strike dead center of the platoon and scatter their formation, however at the last moment the attack arced up and struck a large metal staff being held by a robed man several rows into the formation. The bolt of electricity flowed around the cultists before flying away from them into a nearby ruin, causing the structure to break away with a thunderous crack.
What? He snarled, watching the mass of cultists continue their advance, seemingly unhindered by his display of force. They must have a mage with them. Ramakox started to grumble unintelligible words to himself as several mortals around him gave curious looks about why his attack failed. “They were able to redirect it with a mage.” he said casually, irritation growing as he glared to the robed man.
“Well lets see dem redirect this!” Stonebeard thrust his spear forward towards the red hand. “Loose yer arrows!” The moment he had finished shouting the last syllable, a volley of arrows were loosed passed his shouting face towards the menacing cultists.
Ramakox heard a brief shout of orders before the company rose their shields, protecting themselves from the wave of wooden death falling towards them. Although despite this defensive maneuver, some of the cultists still caught arrows into their bodies. Some even took fatal wounds to their heads, and slumped to the ground with a jingling of their metal armor.
“Now second volley! Throw in some spells while we're at it!”
Rays of blue intense cold, and bolts of flaming spheres were tossed at the horde of metal and leather before them as more arrows were loosed into the air. Like before the shields of the cultists kept many of them protected, but even more fell to the magical prowess or arrows that rained from the sky. Ramakox joined in with the attack, letting loose another bolt of lightning from his maw towards them. Once more he aimed for the clumped mass, knowing the ensuing explosion would do the most damage there. Although just like last time that he did this, the attack was redirected once more by the robed man. Except this time the attack was sent back towards a clumped form of his mortal allies. The bolt exploded around them before the humans could get to cover. The adventurers let out a brief scream before slumping to the ground all dead to Ramakox's horror.
Another few added to the list. Ramakox's mind growled as he focused intently on the robed man amidst the sea of armored cultists. If he wanted to unleash anything powerful on their clumped numbers, it appeared as though that man would have to be dealt with first. Stonebeard seemed to have the same ideas as he pointed to some pegasus knights who were currently holding their ground and bows at the ready.
“Take care of dere finger twiddler in the middle! We need da dragon's spells and breath if we are ta level the field!”
Milalee just nodded, raising her bow as she and five knights took wing with a series of snorts and whinnies from their mounts. The knights flew into the air, lining up their shots with tightly drawn bows, but before they could loose their arrows a screeching noise sounded out through the air. Soon after multi feather pattern gryphons seemed to appear out of thin air and were led by the snow white gryphon called Ironwing from the estate. The white gryphon wore leathers that covered his more vulnerable areas just like the others of his flock. However he had something they all lacked. The white gryphon was sporting a black eye patch, a clear memento of he and Ramakox's first encounter.
The pegasus knights were immediately on the defensive, darting away from the pursuing gryphons. One unlucky rider was torn to shreds by razor sharp talons, his mount getting it's throat ripped out and being tossed to the street below.
“Incoming!” A half-orc adventurer shouted out from the other direction. The tusked individual gesturing with a large battle ax towards the sound of clomping hooves.
Round the other corner came galloping horses all white and brown with barding of dark crimson. Each mount bore a human, elf, or wolven clad in chains or scaled armor just like their fellow cultists. The horses started to pick up speed as the night rang with their ferocious roar.
Ramakox spun around to face the new attackers, begrudgingly forcing himself to ignore the marching cultists for now. He preformed a quick gesture with his claws and pressed them firmly against the cobblestone with a snort. The words of power slipped from his maw easily as the mortals felled several incoming riders with either spell or arrow. Some were creative with their magic. He saw one rider pulled from their horse by a series of twisted vines that sprung from the ground. Another was thrown from his mount as the equine suddenly stopped moving, it's body seemingly frozen in place. The blue dragon's words would only help with this attack of spells as he could manipulate the ground beneath their very feet. He formed holes or little crevices in which to snare the galloping line of calvary. He released a pleased rumble as the first line of beasts suddenly collapsed in a series of pained screams and terrified whinnies. The others behind them being forced to move around their fallen comrades and be peppered by more magical bolts or arrows of wood. Some to his surprise continued on with their charge, crushing the bodies of their allies in their wake. It seemed that the hate for him and his town was greater then their loyalty to their kin.
He let loose another bolt of lightning from his snarling maw, this time it was not redirected by a bothersome mage. Instead it crashed into several stampeding horses, and caused them to flail back into their allies and impede their progress even further. A roar from the cultists from before drew his attention away from the nearly broken riders. The marching mortals suddenly letting loose another loud cry of battle as they suddenly broke into a charge towards their line like men possessed. The blue dragon looked up to see the pegasus knights all interlocked with gryphons. Sword and spear being used to drive off sharpened beaks and talons. With a snort he returned his attention to the charging mortals before him. With their mage I cannot simply stop them with a spell. Ramakox wrinkled his snout as he started to move and reposition himself, adventurers taking his place as he already started to utter the words required for stone skin.
Stoneskin should do the trick with their weapons...Hoping they don't have any magical ones. He shook his head, not really having the time to cast another spell and scan their collective horde for any weapons that could cut through his defensive spell. By Bahamut's platinum scales...Grant me the luck this night. He flicked his tail, twiddled his digits, and forcefully placed a claw to his thick armored chest. “Gol karaake” he said clearly, the last syllable lingering with a hiss. From his claws came the spread of grey that would soon over take all the blue in his scales. The familiar spell almost bringing a smile to the older dragon's snout as he spread his wings wide and let forth a challenging roar that echoed through the night in defiance at the red hand and their evil ways. It was a single glorious thing that held in the air, the sounds of mortals joining him in their mock roars only making the dragon's determination to succeed grow ever stronger.
“For Eastcliff!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, scratching lines into the cobblestone as he flung himself like a stone missile towards the horde of charging cultists. He flapped his wings once, propelling himself swiftly into their ranks, and smashing aside their little bodies with his limbs, or slicing them to pieces with his sharpened claws. Mortals around him gave screams of surprise as they tried to adjust to the dragon that was now in their ranks and tossing them about like rag dolls. Ramakox thrashed his tail, sending at least ten of the armored bastards to the ground. He felt them try to stab or slice at his limbs, finding that their weapons were useless against his magically protected scales. He trained his eyes onto the mage, the one who had redirected his breath and made him kill three adventures fighting by his side.
The robed man was standing firmly while the others threw themselves toward the dragon, almost as if they were buying time for the man who had his hands held up and glowing a faint sickly green. He moved his arms in a fashion that gave away that he was planning to use the spell dispel magic and rip away the dragon's defensive barrier.
Ramakox threw mortals aside with the next breath that filled his lungs, slashing and smacking them with such force he could hear their bones splinter and crack with each quickened strike. He tried to barge his way through the mass of men towards the mage that was getting increasingly within his grasp. It looked like the Elven man would finish his spell as he thrust his fair hands up to point right to the dragon's chest, a smirk forming on the edge of his smug lips. However before the elf could finish the spell, an arrow suddenly passed right through one of his unarmored hands and made the robe wearing finger twiddler howl out in pain.
Milalee sailed quickly over head, giving the dragon a quick salute. The arrow an apparent gift from the fair maiden as her pegasus carried her quickly away over the chaos and the two tawny gryphons chasing after her with eager wing-beats. “Go get him Storm! For the queen!” She shouted out, averting her gaze to the pursuing birds and willing her mount to go faster with a loud “Hiyah!”
Excellent. Ramakox roared his approval as he blasted the stunned mortal with his breath. The elf was too distracted by his hand to deflect the lightning this time. The doomed elf even had hardly enough time to shield his face before the brilliant light of electric death struck him and forced his body to twist and spasm before collapsing to the ground dead. With that magical pest taken care of, Ramakox gave a mighty snort and continued his gruesome work of the cultists around him. Their attempts to hurt him were pathetic, thanks to his spell they did nothing to injure or slow him down. He was serving as the perfect distraction as the adventurers came right after him to attack the cultists head on.
The distracted cultists did not stand a chance as the mortals crashed into their ranks, the cries of dwarf, elf, wolven and human forming together to sound just as fierce as the dragon's mighty roar. Their weapons struck into red-hand flesh, splattering their blood against the ground as shields smashed against their victims and sent them flying to the ground where they were easily finished off. Spears collided with head and chests, axes cut open torsos. It was a gruesome slaughter to say the least as the spell casters behind their lines aided the melee troops with buffs or distracted enemies with curses or illusions. Ramakox even spied a dwarven man playing a bagpipe in the back to pass the time. The blue dragon found the sound not even irritating like he usually did. The melody flowing into him and instead filling his bones with strength and casting away the weariness lingering within them. It was as if the very notes coming from the little bag were themselves magical.
So Ramakox let out another terrifying roar to his enemies as he now had a theme to crush their skulls or slice heads from their torsos. He flung another group into the air with a swipe of his great tail, observing the pegasi overhead as they continued their battle with the fierce feathered gryphons. The knights were not so lucky as the dragon had been with Milalee. The fast gryphons had caught two of the riders and ripped them from their mounts, sending the beasts crashing to the ground. It was only when the last two riders were sliced from their mounts did he start to worry about Milalee's safety as she managed to just barely hold off a gryphon with a sharpened blade.
Milalee was holding her own against a brown and white gryphon that was trying to slice her head from it's shoulders. She sliced at the attacking gryphon who already bore bloody signs of her previous attacks success, her blade slicing deep into the bird's unprotected neck. Her mount carryed her safely away from the dying bird's slashes of retribution with another beat of it's wings. It looked like she was safe, but in the blink of an eye another gryphon was slicing at her, a brightly colored female with crimson feathers letting out a screech of fury as she made the elf turn to the defensive just to avoid being sliced to ribbons. It looked like Milalee was going to be cut down as she was steadily followed, and talons slicing at her leathers.
“Ya won't be killin her ya stupid bird brained twit!” Stonebeard roared as his own mount carried him towards the pair, his spear sinking into the crimson bird's chest just in time to cease her attack and explode her chest with a flash of white light.
“Thanks Stonebeard! Thought the gods had chosen this day to be my death!” Milalee cheered, unstrapping her bow and letting fly a couple more arrows towards a gryphon that had not closed the distance between them.
“Aye lass, can't let the dam cat birds get ya! Not when we be the last two riders left! Now get yer behind back to da tavern so we can regroup!” Stonebeard dove away as two more gryphons flew towards him, only for Ramakox to catch one with a breath of lightning. The bird losing control of it's flight and smashing headfirst right into the side of a building, the ruined wood collapsing onto the gryphon's no doubt mortally wounded form.
“Back to the tavern!” Ramakox echoed the dwarves order with his booming voice, smashing aside some more cultists for good measure. He was the last one to fall back as the adventurers started to do so one by one, the dragon filling their positions and halting the cultist advance in it's tracks. With a quick look around the blue dragon came to the realization that not all the adventurers had made it back to the tavern. Many of their bodies were dead on the street, blood oozing from their broken bodies. He narrowed his eyes and vowed to never forget them. That I swear to you mortals...I will know all your names. He narrowed his eyes and let forth another bolt of lighting, sweeping it before the cultists and making them back off and halt their advance for now.
“Come on ya show off!” Stonebeard called to him, the defenders already starting to form ranks as they moved shields to the front with spears right behind them. “Ya ta save some for da rest of us! Can't have ya hoggin all the glory!” The dwarf gestured to the dwindling riders that somehow had not been wiped out yet, that were slowly being brought down by the clever adventurers.
Ramakox snorted, smacking another puny human cultist aside into a building with a loud clang as the sound of yet another horn filled the air to announce more reinforcements on their way. However just as he was turning around to bound towards the tavern, Ramakox was struck by three separate large forms in his side all at the same time. The combined strength of the trio lifted the dragon off his claws and sent him crashing through a burning building's wall. He hardly felt a thing as wood splintered against him and the wall gave way to his bulk. He had hardly let out a breath before the burning corpse collapsed onto him, trying to crush the blue drake beneath it's form. He was once more thankful for his spell as everything broke against his scales like they were nothing, and the weight of the fallen debris was not enough to trap him beneath it. What was that? His mind shouted as he tore loose chunks of blackened wood and ash from his body and tossed it away like trash.
His answer came in the form of three separate squawks as he emerged from the ruin, shaking the soot from his scales, the powdery substance leaving a thin cloud lingering in the air. Three sets of sharpened talons ripped straight through his protected scales and drew blood from his insides. The blue dragon snarled and pushed back his attackers with a forceful swipe from his claws. Standing before him were three strong looking gryphons. Two grey feathered ones with narrowed eyes of ice with scared tan leathers with the symbol of a red clenched fist painted on their surfaces. The other one with them was a snowy white gryphon with the eye patch. The one from before who called himself Ironwing.
He lashed back with a snarl, a sharpened claw slicing down the form of one of the grey ones. It caused the gryphon to let out a pained squawk as it flapped frantically away to avoid further strikes. Ironwing punished his attack however, rewarding his glancing blow with two large strikes to his forelimbs. One stuck his hardened scales and did nothing to him, the other cut right into his scales and painting the dark grey a bright crimson.
How ? His mind snarled as he snapped at the snowy gryphon and made the eye patch wearing bird avoid being caught by his sharpened fangs. He snarled and let loose his breath upon his winged attackers, the gryphons easily avoiding it and knocking him to his side once more with a synchronized powerful strike that left him wincing in pain and his spell fading away the moment he struck the hardened ground with a pained gasp. “Enough of that!” he roared, lashing out with a claw and summoning a chain lightning spell to his mind. This time as he righted himself he let loose two attacks of electric fury, one from his breath and the other launching from his claws with a loud crack. Iron wing was the only one to avoid it with a flap of his wings, the other two not quick enough to avoid both of the bolts of light. Their forms shook and trembled as electricity coursed through their bodies, sending a jolt of satisfaction through the blue dragon's heart at his success.
Ironwing slipped in and sliced opened his maw with a powerful quickened strike, making Ramakox wrinkle his snout and snarl in response at the quick flash of pain. The gryphon's ploy to save his allies was too late, the grey feathered birds collapsed to the ground, never to rise again. The snowy gryphon attacked again before Ramakox could utter another syllable. His frantic slashes finding scales that opened up before his continued assault. It was in that moment that the blue dragon noticed that the gryphon's talons were painted a dark teal. Like they were dipped into a cup of dripping ink.
Adamantium ? His mind asked as his tail smashed through a window with a loud crash. It shattered glass and sent the shards to the stone below. That would explain why he is having such an easy time going through my scales. He knew that material had magical properties, and boasted some of the strongest armor and weapons throughout the land. “Once more you find yourself alone.” Ramakox snarled, his claws brushing the gryphon as the bird leaped away once more, his wings carrying him high above a building with a mighty flap.
“I'm not alone dragon.” Ironwing growled. “I have the others, and they are making sure to get rid of your minions.” Sure enough a loud yell drew the blue dragon's attention to see that six manticores were hovering over the adventurers and launching down their sharpened spines to make the mortals scatter and run for cover before the withering attack.
Ramakox growled and continued his duel with the slippery gryphon. He had to end this quickly then, if only to make sure that he could free up his defensive line from the lion like beasts suppressing them with their sharpened spines that were sinking into flesh and causing so much trouble. He bound after the snowy gryphon, joining him in the air as he lashed out with a snarl. His claws missed the first time, but his second strike with his talons found purchase in Ironwing's flank. Lightning flashed across the sky as Ironwing battered his snout with claws and still managed to dodge and weave and narrowly avoid the blue dragon's next quickened attacks. “Graaaah!” Ramakox shouted in irritation as his claws smashed through a ruined wooden beam as he pursued the gryphon back down closer to the burning homes.
“It seems as thought you are slow this evening dragon. It actually saddens me that you are not as challenging as you were.”
“Is that so? You seem very eager to dodge my claws, perhaps you should stick around to experience them? Just slow down so I can do the world a favor and get rid of you and your groups activities.”
“I would say the same to you dragon! I will not rest until your evil ways are stopped, and the death of my wing-mates are avenged!” Ironwing's limb suddenly glew a bright blue before he struck back at Ramakox, catching the blue dragon on his snout. The paw had so much force that Ramakox was slammed into the ground with a groan as the stone beneath him shattered and cracked.
“Ugh.” Ramakox snarled, shaking his head as he pushed himself to all fours. He could feel the rest of his body aching with a dull pain that made his tail flick in response, and caused him to grit his teeth with his next breath. He must have something to increase his strength..Some sort of item or spell..I have NEVER felt a gryphon that strong. He gasped out, eyes training on Ironwing who gave him a sly smirk.
From the tavern came a loud defiant roar that brought a smile to the blue dragon's snout. The familiar quaking sound that echoed through the night and belonged to none other then his Sea Lilly announcing her arrival to the fight.
“Get the ness!” came a shout from the collection of cultists.
“Oh gods save us! Duck!” cries sounded out as the dragoness started to pluck manticores from the sky with her strong claws and slicing the lion like creatures to bloody ribbons.
“Looks like history is repeating itself little gryphon. You could have lived in peace from me if you only kept hiding and running.” Ramakox took flight to chase after Ironwing as the gryphon darted away with a squawk. “But you intent to come back to my home...and kill my people?” He let out another bolt of lightning, making the gryphon swerve and avoid the brilliant bolt of death.
“Yes it is dragon, but not for me!” Ironwing snapped back, angling his wings and quickly changing direction to slice a the blue dragon's underside and only getting a shallow wound in return from Ramakox's claws. “But for you and your mortals! Just like that woman that Aster killed.”
“How dare you speak of her!” the fury inside the blue dragon's heart starting to cause his vision to turn shades of various reds. He raced with renewed purpose against the vile gryphon, his eyes narrowing and filling with murderous intent. He pictured Imzel's frozen face staring at him with accusing eyes. “You will pay for her death!” Ramakox roared as the gryphon led him away from the tavern and towards the crater that used to be the town hall. In the back of his mind he could hear warning bells going off. The white gryphon's actions clearly leading him away from the bulk of the battle. However with another smug look tossed his way and another thought to Imzel he pushed the warnings from his mind and pounded ever harder against the air in pursuit. He rose a claw and focused on horrific wilting, the spell that had put and end to Lord Aster. It may not have been an original way to dispose of the gryph, but it was ever so fitting for he and his cultist friends.
Ramakox preformed the claw movement as the mental image of Ironwing writhing in pain as the horrid gryphon clutched at himself and was reduced to a withered husk lingered in his mind. The grim image brought a feeling of satisfaction to his murderous mind. He went to snarl the words, the final part of the activation to end Ironwing's horrible life. There was a loud twang that filled the air, the only warning that the dragon got as it threatened to be drowned out by the sounds of combat. He gave a surprised yelp as a large net of dark hunter green collided with him, quickly binding up his glorious wings and limbs in a matter of seconds. The surprise made him stumble in thought, the spell fading away into nothing as he lost his concentration. That was not all the net did however, from each green strand came a burning sensation that lit up his body with pain so intense that it made him gasp, twitch, tremble and clench his teeth as he plummeted towards the earth. He crashed into the street with a ripple of shattering pain, his bones seemed to all smash against one another as the air was forcefully driven from his lungs.