Rae

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Clang! Clang! Clang!

The warning bell echoed throughout Garas Harbor, but it was already too late. With a terrifying roar, a great dragon ravaged the streets, its bloodthirst insatiable. The smell of smoke, blood, and salt water mixed in the air—a pungent odor that overwhelmed the senses. The screams of the citizens were cut short by their horrible deaths.

The harbor’s soldiers…they were already dead, their bodies strewn about at the gate. Some were ripped apart by the dragon’s claws, others were charred beyond recognition, and still others rested in the belly of the beast.

A single messenger, a young boy barely 14, was the only hope for what was left of Garas Harbor. He rode his horse through the forest towards Fort Siane, pure adrenaline preventing him from completely falling apart. He had to make it in time. He just had to. His brothers-in-arms would not have died in vain.



General Artemis Carrow, affectionally known as Ari by her closest companions, stood silent in front of her company. They were running through drills at their secondary headquarters, awaiting reports from their scouts about several cerberi she’d been tracking. As per her instructions, magic was barred from this exercise.

It had a singular purpose: to accentuate their strengths and weaknesses. She noticed the strange (even haphazard at times) but adaptable techniques in some of her more…unorthodox soldiers, while others dedicated themselves to a refined but stubborn method reminiscent of a military background.

She sniffed the air, her eyes flashing suddenly. She held her hand up, ending the drill. “A messenger…” she said vaguely, moving swiftly out of the courtyard towards Fort Siane’s one and only entrance. Artemis didn’t even look back to see if her company was following; she fully expected them to do so. Messengers rarely ever came to Fort Siane unless the Hellhounds were desperately needed, and she had a terrible feeling in her gut.

Her timing was impeccable; the young messenger rode through the gate breathless and terrified the same moment the Rose Company arrived. His horse heaved, its eyes bulging. The young boy, marked with the characteristics of a soldier from Garas Harbor, nearly fell to the ground trying to dismount the steed. He was shaking, and the horse…Artemis knew it was too far gone. It was practically staggering, and the stable boys could barely get it to move another inch.

She looked away, focusing on the messenger. Commander Rolan was already speaking to him, so she simply waited. After mere seconds, Rolan’s jaw went slack, and the princess’s patience snapped. She marched forward, taking the boy by the shoulder and whirling him around towards her.

“What needs to be done, boy?” she said sharply, though not unkindly. He was pale, his lips chapped with dehydration. He would be taken care of after his message was properly delivered. He looked bewildered as he suddenly realized who was speaking to him. Rolan, for his part, answered her question.

“A dragon is attacking Garas Harbor as we speak,” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. The general straightened, her eyes narrowed towards her friend. She knew he was telling the truth, but every rational part of her screamed that it wasn’t possible. They had catalogued every dragon and its territory; there wasn’t a single one remotely near Garas Harbor.

But there was no time for questioning. The Rose Company had a job to do. She turned back to her soldiers, raising her voice loud and clear. “Today, we kill a dragon. Take only what you need. We leave in ten minutes.” She refused to let any of her own fear leak into her voice. She had to be strong; that was her job. She also had to survive, though even the Rose Company had never killed a dragon before.​
 
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Commander Eriana Kiryn
Commander Eriana Kiryn, known commonly as Eri among the Rose Company, stood with the company, directing their movements and taking note of their unique styles. Ryan sparred with Verus, an interesting pair. They were both carefree, and both effective fighters in their own ways. Jakob sparred with Falles. She frowned slightly as she watched them. Falles was lethargic and apathetic, while Jakob was a more eccentric fighter, though nonetheless effective. They made a curious pair, and she hoped that their pairing in this exercise would help them become more self-aware. After a moment, she turned to survey the others, noting Vultog sparring with both Tamsyn and Cress. Tamsyn always shone in the magicless exercises, such as this one, but Vultog was a formidable opponent on his own, and Cress's defensive style complemented Tamsyn's preference for avoiding direct confrontation. She frowned again as she studied the trio, trying to assess Vultog and Cress' conditions. They both suffered from chronic pain, along with a few other of the Hellhounds, and she tried to ease that pain where she could.

They seemed to be doing well, but as she turned away from them, Artemis' hand shot up, and Eriana quickly moved to her side, not even hesitating. She followed closely after Artemis, noting the slight tension in her friend's shoulders, and felt her own concern deepen. Messengers were rare, it was true, but it was rarer to see Ari this concerned. What are her instincts telling her this time...?

They arrived as the messenger did. Eriana took in the state of the horse and the boy, and immediately moved to the horse, resting a hand on its side as the stable boy struggled with it. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and the horse's legs steadied beneath it as the spell eased its exhaustion and gave it new strength. She nodded to the stable boy and stepped away from the horse, allowing him to lead it away. It would live another day.

She turned her attention back to the boy in time to see Rolan's jaw going slack and Artemis grabbing the boy's shoulder. She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on the boy's other shoulder, whispering the same spell she had used on the horse. The boy looked relieved as the exhaustion was lifted from him, and Eriana looked up again, listening carefully to Rolan.

A dragon in Garas Harbor.

Her grip on the boy's shoulder tightened briefly before she let him go, nudging him toward Rolan. "See he's cared for," she whispered, and he nodded. As Rolan took the boy and led him away, Eriana straightened her back, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing deeply. This shouldn't have been possible. There were no dragons near Garas Harbor. And yet...

She turned and walked back to Artemis' side, looking out over the Rose Company. They had never killed a dragon before...but they were the best of the best, the elite of the elite. They had trained and fought, and they complemented each other well. If they couldn't kill the dragon, nobody could.

"When we get out there, stay close. Watch each other's backs." A pause as Eriana looked over the company one moment longer, before nodding slightly. "Ten minutes," she said quietly, echoing Artemis. "Find me if you need anything before we go." Her gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned and went to fetch her pack.
 
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VULTOG

Vultog lunged forwards, enthusiastically swinging the blunted training axe down as Tamsyn leapt to the right to avoid the blow. Hearing the footsteps of Cress running up behind, he stepped forwards, spinning on his foot as the handle of the axe shifted across his body. The sword bounced off and he smirked at Cress, stepping off to his right to keep the two in his sight. His head turned slightly to the left to use as much of his good field of vision as possible. It wasn't fun being outnumbered, and so he pitied his sparring partners. They were outnumbered by one Vultog to two humans.

He was so caught up in the moment that he didn't even notice the princess turn and walk away, and it wasn't until Cress lowered his sword and tapped him on the shoulder that Vultog cottoned on to what the rest of the company had realised already. It didn't take long to catch up though. Standing nearly half as tall again as the next tallest person in the company, Vultog took longer strides than most...though he did end up with a headache more often too. Stupid doorways.

Arriving in the courtyard with the rest of the company, Vultog stood up a little straighter at the sight of Commander Rolan. Had it not been for him, Vultog would have likely died fighting petty militia or fellow bandits, rather than testing his strength against the most fearsome enemies that existed. Were it not for him, and of course the Princess herself, he would not be standing where he was right now. A few important people had risked a lot on him, and he had sworn he would not let them down. He stood by, watching the terrified boy and the exhausted horse as they stumbled in, and the grin on his face grew wider. Such a messenger could mean only one thing.

A bloody bit of bloodletting.

Even so, he was not prepared for the words that came from the Princess' mouth. A dragon. He had to suppress a giggle of mirth as the itch in his eye twinged sharply before becoming dulled. A DRAGON! He needed no encouragement upon the words of dismissal, his long legs carrying him rapidly to his quarters where he took up his proper battleaxe. The blunt training implement was left lying by his bunk in his haste. A fierce grin spread across his face as he charged back down, not even dulled by the two doorways he hit his head on. Charging out into the courtyard, he stood ready, one hand eagerly fidgeting with the shaft of his axe. The look on his face was indicative of why so many people feared orc war parties - you could bring the worst demons you could find to face them, but they'd still run at it with weapon in hand and violence in their hearts. Heedless of the danger he stood ready. He was gonna hack the fuckery outta that dragon. He was ready. Today was going to be a bloody great day!

 
While Kou was not particularly adept at fighting without use of his magic, he considered himself lucky to be facing someone who felt the same. While he was very much capable of keeping up with her, Morna was at the very least more comfortable than Kou could be. His fighting style was focused on keeping a distance and only closing the gap when taking damage was completely avoidable. His small frame made it much easier to dodge, shifting right and left and using his hand and wooden sword to parry. It was a good thing this was a spar as fighting Morna otherwise might mean defeat, he was starting to feel overwhelmed.

As Artemis walked away he had noticed how much ground he'd lost during the fight as it came to an end. He was stepping back to allow a little more time to react to her quick strikes. Silently gesturing for Morna to stop, Koudis found himself struggling to speak while breathing in and out rapidly. "Hold," He spoke, motioning behind Morna towards Artemis. After a quick pause to catch his breath, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his nose, Koudis approached the messenger boy just as the news of the dragon came from Rolans mouth.

The gentle look on his face immediately became stern and concerned. He didn't care much for the implications, only ending the attack. Turning around, he spoke aloud, "When duty calls..." and headed indoors to get his supplies. Removing his loose white shirt in favor of a light gambeson, Kou motioned his hand to what others might assume to be a wooden sculpture and whispered, "I will become a force of nature." After the words slipped through his lips the wooden figure came to life, opening up to reveal a human sized cavity and seemed to consume Koudis, fitting almost perfectly around his entire body. Vines and woven hemp tightened around to a snug fit around the man often called the Arbor Knight.

Grabbing his hemp ropes and mounting them at his waste, Koudis kept one in his hand and whispered a brief spell onto it. Like a snake unhinging its jaw, the end of the rope frayed open and snapped at the handle of his bone arming sword and tightened around the handle. Kou was not foolhardy enough to go within melee range of a dragon, he'd use this rope as an extension of his arms and wield his sword from the end of this. The other end of the rope fastened itself just above his tailbone.

Lastly, he reached for what appeared to be a regular walking stick with a linen thread tied around it. "Fight along side me," this incantation caused the linen to unwrap itself and the walking stick bent and flattened into the shape of a bow. At the same time, a woven hemp quiver tangled itself onto the left side of his waste, full of arrows with different colored feathers.

Stepping outside, he saw that Vultog had already made his way out and ready for battle. Koudis was slower to prepare, he didn't have the fiery rage of the orcs, something that chilled him to the bone. Letting out a nervous nod to Vultog, Kou gently slapped his hand on the orcs shoulder. "With a look like that I'm glad I don't call you my enemy."
 
Falles had wondered, as a matter of idle thought, the logic behind the pairing. The Paladin of the Burgeoning Waistline, locked in mock combat with the one-armed wonder. Perhaps they had thought to shame him, he of the slowing feet and numbed reflex, out of his complacency. A cruel, callous ploy unfurled like the whip of the overseer. An unlikely one, given the Marshal’s facility in combat; that Falles was not demonstrably out-classed was a tenuously attained function of his reach advantage, and his impenetrable conservatism.

Perhaps they had thought to invigorate him, such was the Marshal’s unusually honed technique and lively prowess. A mountainous task, though the Hellhounds as a whole seemed to have a fondness for endeavors of that nature. Some of them may have even bore an addiction, masquerading as tempered duty and the mandate of the honorable strong. And, yes, perhaps their particular spar could bear fruit, and a riveting end, and some measure of self-improvement. Mayhaps he could lash the singular strike to break through Jakob’s uncanny movements, or himself give, progressing in the doing.

The prospect of calamity interrupted them, as it often did.

Rolan’s voice in quietus, Vultog’s macabre grin were portents of the same thing. Falles’ expression was seldom a portent of anything at all. The concept of ‘dragon’ wrangled little from him but the drawing of a single, level breath.

The endeavor against the monsters was, largely, futile. The dragon, and the various degrees of added futility it entailed, were immaterial.

When Falles had joined the rest of his compatriots, his most notable accoutrements were the veritable wreath of waterskins he slung across his torso. Dragons, ostensibly, were thirsty work.
 
Embr and Kronis

The courtyard smelled of early morning summer rain and sweaty bodies, the first endlessly refreshing and the second haunted the sandfilled floor like a persistently lingering wraith of hardwork and exhaustion. The scarlet mangled sun beat down upon the men and women of the Rose company with its absentminded irritation of having to push through the insistent encompassing clouds that even now were drifting across the sky in their lethargic pilgrimage on the South winds. Ultimately, a good day.

Verus Embr’s ecstatic laughter reverberated like wind chimes across the yard, delightful, invigorating.

“Liven up, Rye! It’s a beautiful day!” Like a limber panther, he skipped happily around his sparring partner, Ryan, with movements more playful than effective. “It’s a beautiful day to get your arse handed to you! Ya!” Without warning, Verus leapt high into the air and gracefully spun three times midair before his feet could hit the ground, his wooden practice glaive shot out in an awkwardly positioned yet elegant strike.

Ryan was quick to raise his practice staff to block Verus’s attack, and boy was he glad that he did. The force of the blow reverberated throughout his body, from the hands that held the wooden staff all the way to his toes, which he promptly wriggled in his boots. “It’s a beautiful day, that’s for sure!”

Instead of responding with an attack of his own, he stumbled backwards, the honking of a goose emitting from his socks with each step shaking out his arms and then his entire body. “I don’t wanna get my arse handed to me though! I like it where it is right now!” At first he was a little salty that he’d been paired with Verus. He liked him well enough, he just wished that he could have gotten someone who was on his level physically today. But hey, it was better than being paired with Vultog.

Anything was better than being paired with Vultog.

But a small part of him wondered what it’d be like to spar with the orc. Painful, for sure. While he was stronger than Verus, the elf clearly made up for that in agility. “You gotta teach me some of those sweet moves sometime. And also give me your diet. You’ve got to be getting some extra protein!”

“My secret is simple, Rye. I just sunbathe all day! Watch out!” Cackling like a child playing his favourite game, Verus sprinted and braced his glaive on the ground and vaulted, throwing himself forward in a kick. But his bracing staff, its glaive head curved and not designed to be balanced upon, slipped and foiled his push. With a yelp, Verus spun again in the air and gracefully managed to land on his feet right in front of Ryan, weaponless, out of momentum and in an awkward pose.

“Opps…”

“A-ha!” Ryan took this divine opportunity to swing the end of his staff towards Verus’s side, a cheeky grin on his face. Truth be told, he wasn’t taking this seriously. He didn’t see the need to, odds were he’d end up losing, and this wasn’t quite his style anyway. While he knew his way around with a staff, he would much rather be in a lab, working on his true, beloved staff, improving and optimizing it.

But he needed to stay in physical shape as well, and magic was no replacement for actual combat skills. So, he didn’t abhor this sparring match. Besides, call him a masochist, but so far it was proving to be fun despite the bruises he would receive.

Verus was quite the opposite. He loved the exercise, the exhilaration of motion, the sunlight on his skin. It was, in fact, his favourite game. Even as he was hit by Ryan’s mock strike which had little force behind it, he played into it and dramatically flipped in the air as if struck by a bull and flopped onto the ground, feigning pain and gasping for air, his face in the sand.

“Owwww…” He groaned in his most exaggerated imitation of someone severely injured.

“Huh...maybe I don’t need any such protein after all.” Ryan smirked. It was fun, though he guessed he’d get chewed out for not taking this seriously.

Verus sprung up from the ground laughing gleefully, slapping his sparring partner’s back with one band and dusting himself off with another. It was a great day, and they were having a great time.

The General’s raised hand cut off his mirth, and the messenger riding in from the gate soured his expression. And here he was enjoying his morning.

“Come on. We have work to do.” Verus said grumpily and followed Ryan back into their barracks to retrieve their gears.


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Morna focused on driving Kou back, using her superior melee skills to pressure him relentlessly. It was not a quick victory by any means, rather a slow and steady pattern of her attacking and him giving ground to avoid being properly struck, but it went in her favor all the same. She expected it to go on for a long while longer, but then she spotted an opening: distraction. In the span of the second it took for Kou to signal for her to hold, she'd already drawn the blunted stick back and poised it to stab right into his ribs through his slackened defenses, a blow that would have pierced his liver in a real fight with a bladed weapon.

Instead, Morna held back from striking and turned to see what the issue was. She wiped the thin sheen of sweat from her brow and maintained steady breathing while Koudis heaved and puffed like a bellows, and she kept an eye on him as she followed him toward the princess and the messenger. Apparently he'd been pushed even harder than she'd thought in their sparring match, and she made a mental note that in any future such bouts she would probably be able to get away with even more aggression.

Thoughts of sparring were quickly scattered by a single word: dragon. Morna instinctively reached up to touch the blue feathers pinned into her braid, as she always did when she heard news of a monster attack. As her hand dropped back to her side, she just nodded and spoke aloud with no care for whether or not others nearby heard her. "Such a lovely day. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings." It was clearly sarcastic, but the fact that she intended to see tomorrow with a dragon on today's agenda spoke volumes. Morna tossed her training spear onto a nearby weapon rack and trotted off to gather her gear, wasting no time at all on worrying about the fight to come.



The slap of blunted weapon striking flesh was following not with a yelp of pain, but rather with a boisterous laugh. "Good one!" Gamnuri shook off Taria's strike and danced away out of range. She was winning this little fight, that was for sure, but he was enjoying it all the same. It was a reasonably good match up, but today Taria's range with her sword was proving to be too much for Gamnuri to overcome. That was fine though, he'd come out ahead in previous bouts and would likely do so again in the future. He hurled himself at her with a wordless roar and they exchanged some blows, and again Gamnuri ended up retreating with a laugh.

Their sparring came to a halt soon after Princess Artemis headed over to hear the words of a messenger recently arrived on an exhausted horse. The dwarf spared a second to grab Taria's hand and give it an enthusiastic shake. "Great fight, you're damned good as always. Let's do it again later, eh?" He gave her a friendly grin, and it stayed on his face even as he wandered over and heard the princess' declaration. Gamnuri nodded and cracked his knuckles. "The gods smile on me today, then. I've always wanted to see what it takes to kill a dragon. Should be a fun one!"

While others dispersed to gather their things, the dwarf was already good to go once he picked up the things he'd brought with him to their training session for the day. He used some water to wash the sweat of exertion from his brow, but otherwise there was nothing to do. A man who used nothing but his fists and innate magical skills had little need for preparation time, after all. Gamnuri sat cross-legged on the ground and used most of those ten minutes to pray, not at all bothered about the others moving around him as they readied for battle. They'd seen him sit somewhere with his eyes closed many times before, and by now they all knew what he was doing. He spoke silently to the gods, telling them of the challenge ahead and his willingness to face it, and as usual they did not answer. That was fine. If he ever received an answer, he'd be just as surprised as anyone else, just for vastly different reasons.

Gamnuri rose from his handful of minutes of meditation with a calm confidence in place of his rowdy enthusiasm. It was always like that after he prayed: the humor died down momentarily, but in its place came peace and readiness to act. He joined the other soldiers who were ready for battle, and as he did so a grin came back to his face. He called out to the gathered folks and made an effort to raise any lowered morale among them. "My friends, just think about it, if you play your cards right then this time tomorrow you might be able to tell everyone you punched a dragon in the face and lived to tell the tale. Just imagine how many free drinks that'll earn you in the local taverns in years to come! Gotta take joy in your work, else there's no point doing it, eh?" Gamnuri laughed at his own comment, a good natured chuckle that invited others to join him.

Truth be told he didn't care about the prospect of free ale, but having allies about ready to piss their breeches was no good, much better to have them laughing in the face of death if possible. As relaxed and ready as he was to face a dragon, it was going to be a damned hard fight for sure. It wasn't even a certain thing that dragons could be killed, as far as he was aware. They would all need to be at the top of their game if they had any hope of killing the damn thing, much less to do so and survive the battle, and happy soldiers were more likely to get the job done than frightened ones. Gamnuri made sure to do his part on that front, keeping up the grins and the jokes as they waited for the signal to leave for Garas Harbor.
 

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Taria was certainly not as boisterous in her enthusiasm for the fight, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. She had given it her all, relishing the opportunity to practice, and she had taken Gamnuri's hits in stride. If anyone believed that it wasn't a fair fight since she had a weapon and he didn't, they would be wrong. She had been gaining the upper hand in today's sparring session, but she had trained with him enough times to know it could have easily gone either way, as it had in previous bouts. He was older than her and had much more experience in many factions of life, for which she had the utmost respect.

"I will take you up on the offer," she replied, smiling faintly. She would have continued to speak if it wasn't for seeing Princess Artemis. She didn't have to wait long before hearing what the princess had to say. Dragon? Her grip on the practice sword slackened at the word. Unlike Vultog and even Gamnuri, she didn't have the same enthusiasm for facing one. Yes, she was in the Rose Company, and yes, she would do her utmost best to help her comrades in taking down the beast. However, she didn't want to portray false confidence- that sort of thing just felt wrong to her. The others might be confident of their skills, and while she certainly wasn't a pushover, she didn't think she would fare well against such a mighty beast by herself.

Nodding at Commander Eriana's words, Taria took her leave for her quarters to get ready. Ten minutes was more than enough for her. Once she had changed out of her practice clothes, she took care to wrap bandages securely around her knees, and then her left hand, not willing to risk pain in her joints during the fight. That done, she put on her armour and gloves before picking up her broadsword, finger tracing over the runes on the blade, each of them a source for the blue and white flames she used to smite her foes with. A purple gem was embedded right beneath the grip of the sword; when pressed it would activate said runes. She had commissioned Ryan to make the sword a couple of weeks after she had joined the Hellhounds, and until now it proved an invaluable weapon to her.

Though not as invaluable as Prongs. Her unicorn had been her companion for years, and there was no one quite like him. It was tempting to summon him already, but she didn't. Not yet, she thought to herself. Not until he is needed. She refused to put his life into jeopardy.

With her sword now properly sheathed on her back, Taria left her quarters, making her way to where some of the others had already arrived. It wasn't her way to say much before a battle, but listening to banter did help ease a little nervousness. Even she could admit to that.
 
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Tamsyn Trelawney

As she hit the dust, Tamsyn was far happier than the casual observer would have any reason to suspect. Capitalizing on the momentum from the dive, she rolled away from the massive orc before springing to her feet, sword in hand and a grin plastered across her face. She loved exercises like this. With so many of her comrades leaning heavily on their magic to aid their martial prowess, it was...satisfying to observe their efforts without it. Not that she had had a chance to do very much watching.

Despite being deprived of magic and outnumbered, Vultog was still an extremely demanding opponent. In the spirit of bettering herself Tamsyn had forgone her bow; spending the exercise finding out how many quivers of practice arrows it would take to concuss the orc wouldn’t have taught her anything useful. To this end her hand was clenched around the ageing leather handle of a practice sword that had seen little action. Even with blunted weapons, going toe to toe with Vultog would have been tantamount to suicide. Instead, she had occupied her time so far dodging the orc’s attacks, biding her time as she waited for him to make a mistake that would provide an opening for her or more usefully Cress to strike. Tamsyn’s sword had connected once or twice but not in a way that she was convinced would have done any damage even with an edged weapon. She was a little taken aback when the Princess abruptly ended the exercise, but it was, Tamsyn supposed, Artemis’s prerogative as a princess and a general. She waited to follow the rest of the Rose Company until Cress passed her, falling into step with her training partner.

"You know, I think we might have even bruised him a little there."

Despite being somewhat out of breath Tamsyn’s voice was full of cheer and matched her mood. All things considered, today was turning out to be a good one; little did she know that her ship of positivity was about to be dashed against the rocks. She entered the gatehouse courtyard just in time to see Commander Kiryn revitalise a horse that had looked not long for this world. Anyone glancing at Tamsyn's face would have seen the contented smile that had stretched across it wiped away and replaced with an expression of carefully composed nothingness.

What she had just seen rankled deep inside her soul. Day to day, she could just about tolerate the flagrant and often gratuitous use of magic that she witnessed by being part of the Hellhounds. She knew she was most likely in a minority of one in the Hellhounds with her beliefs, and she had gotten good at biting her tongue. Yet there was something more intolerable about how the commander had toyed with the balance between life and death. Regrettably, the commander was not someone she could let have a piece of her mind, now or ever, not if she wanted to remain a part of the Hellhounds and the Rose Company. Tamsyn settled for repositioning herself so she could see neither horse nor the commander so as to remove the temptation to do something she might regret.

Tamsyn only spent as long in her quarters as she needed to discard her training sword, belt on her real one and string her bow. On her way out she also grabbed a handful of other supplies as well as the tightly rolled chainmail armour that offered slightly more protection than her normal gear. She was going to need it. Part of her still couldn’t quite believe that they were being called to deal with a dragon. Based on the ripple of shock that had flowed through her compatriots back in the courtyard she wondered how many felt the same as her.

Tamsyn’s next stop was at the fort armoury to fill her quiver. Each arrow was carefully but quickly inspected by her practised eyes before being placed back in the bins or her quiver. She picked out a variety of arrow heads; some designed to pierce armour while others to tear soft flesh, hedging her bets for a fight that she had no idea how to win. With that done there was one last task Tamsyn knew she had to complete before they left. One that was almost as daunting as fighting a dragon.

Returning to the courtyard where several other members of the company were already mustered, Tamsyn found a relatively flat stone in the gatehouse wall and pulled out a ragged sheet of paper. With a face screwed up in concentration and the slow deliberate hand movements of the slightly educated, she started to write a short letter to her parents.​

 
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Cress grunted as he felt the impact of the training weapons jolt up his arms. Vultog had, not surprisingly, turned in time to block the blow from his sword with the hilt of his axe and it was rather akin to striking a stone wall. But that was pretty par for the course, and Cress jumped back to reassess his and Tamsyn’s tactic. Creativity was a necessity when facing an opponent like the orcish warrior, even in something like a sparring match and, despite the frequent aches and bruises he received from their matchups, Cress was grateful for the experience it gave him.

Before they could rework their approach, however, Cress caught sight of General Carrow and Commanders Rolan and Kiryn with a messenger who appeared to be in distress. Others, he noted, were beginning to gather, and he stood down in their match, catching Vultog’s attention and gesturing toward the small gathering. Whatever was going on, he had a feeling it was not good news. The young man delivering the message looked shaken to the core and Cress felt tightness began to form in his stomach.

He scarcely noticed as Tamsyn fell into stride beside him, and he merely shook his head at her comment. Now didn’t seem to be the time for cheer or small talk. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He’d spent over a decade at Fort Siane, and only in the direst of circumstances would a messenger drive a horse that hard into the mountains.

And then the General’s announcement came and Cress felt the knot in his stomach turn to ice. Garas Harbour. Such a large city, the casualties must be astronomical-- and Erith

It took little time for the warrior to collect his gear and rejoin the others, stoic and silent. Each had their own response to such a situation, and Cress could appreciate that. He could not, however, find any eagerness for glory or battle for its own right. He never had. His only desire was to prevent further death and destruction, and the dragon seemed to be delivering that in excess.

Whether or not such a creature could be defeated, he didn’t know. Having such short notice didn’t seem to bode well, though they had to act in the interest of preserving life-- that he wholeheartedly agreed with-- and he was going to do his damndest.
 
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Their words were poison, seeping into the very souls of their enemies. They whispered, a mere breath on the wind heard by those who had fallen. Their time was near...so very near. The mortals would die at their hand, and they would remake the world in chaos.

All of this bloodshed, all of this pain...it was only the beginning.




Artemis stood fully prepared at the gate, waiting impatiently for her Company to return. She had no need to retrieve her gear; the general made it her mission to always be prepared. Damn it all if she were ever caught by surprise. The stables were in chaos as horses were quickly made ready for the journey, their indignant neighs echoing throughout the fortress. The animals did not like to be rushed.

As members of the Rose Company returned with their gear, the princess gracefully mounted her own black and white stallion. She spoke quietly in his ear, calming his nerves. It was as if the horses knew what was happening, and their fear was apparent. Nevertheless, these horses were trained well, and they would not falter.

Turning her attention to her gathered soldiers, Artemis looked each of them in the eye before finally speaking. "We ride hard, straight for Garas Harbor. I don't care if we encounter giants or other monsters along the way; the city will be lost if we don't make it in time." With that, her horse galloped through the exit, leading the way to the Rose Company's potential destruction.

They took too long, even though they were pushing their horses past their limits. They saw the smoke well before they saw the city, black plumes rising into the clear blue sky. Her magic heightened her sense of smell, and the mixture of blood and ash was almost overwhelming. The general coughed violently, willing her stallion to ride ever faster as the dragon's terrible roar pierced the air.

The Rose Company came to a city in shambles, already well on its way to being utterly destroyed. The screams had never stopped ceasing; the ships at the harbor had already fled. Those that remained were trapped, even as they desperately tried to escape to the countryside.

The great dragon delighted in its spoils, its roar seeming to break off into monstrous laughter. Its unseen master whispered, bringing its focus away from the helpless civilians to the Hellhounds coming towards it. The beast screamed, flying with impossible speed towards its new prey.

The general sensed the incoming flames before they were released. The heavy fire from the dragon's mouth flew towards them, tinged with heated blue. Artemis yelled for her Company to stop as she yanked on her reins, nearly falling off her horse as it reared up in protest. There was no time to think; she outstretched her hands, incantations falling off her lips as the fire suddenly turned back towards the beast.

The dragon roared angrily as its own weapon was used against it. But it did little to actually harm the monster; its scales provided more protection than even the best armor. It circled before landing, the earth shaking beneath its terrible size. Whole buildings were felled beneath it, and bodies of civilians long dead were crushed.

"Pitiful mortals...you dare to challenge me! You will die, just like the rest of them!" The dragon's voice was nearly incomprehensible, its words garbled by its massive teeth. Artemis clenched her jaw, remembering the rumors that dragons could actually communicate with mortals. It would not just be a rumor anymore, it seemed.

"We will not die today. Vultog, weaken it as much as you can! The rest of you, fall into positions. Leave the horses!" Her voice could barely be heard over the chaos, but she had no time to worry if they heard her orders. They knew what to do regardless. Flying into the air with her magic, the general landed on a half-destroyed tower, positioned at the same level as the dragon. For whatever reason, its eyes remained focused on her, and she could have sworn that the beast actually smiled.

Retrieving her bow from her back, Artemis took aim, more incantations falling from her lips. She took a breath, letting the arrow fly. It flew straight through the air, embedding itself in one of the glinting eyes of the dragon. The monster screamed louder than ever before, flying into the air as golden blood dripped. It rained fire upon them, swiping its claws towards the Rose Company.

The battle began, and it seemed her arrow had only served to make it that much angrier.[/hr]​
 



VULTOG

Vultog hated horses.

Even the largest horse in the stable wasn't really big enough, and riding at full tilt with his knees tucked up to his chest was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. His back ached, his arse was sore...and the horse didn't really fare much better. They were pushing the horses hard, but not all of those horses were having to contend with the huge bulk of an orc. As he clambered off the saddle with great enthusiasm, he was forced to briefly consider that he might have to walk back to the keep.

Such petty concerns dwindled as he looked up at the enormous bulk of the dragon. As his neck craned further and further back, his grin grew wider and wider. Now this would be worth fighting. He unsheathed his axe, resting the head on his right shoulder while supporting the haft with his right arm. His left arm formed a fist, pounding rhythmically against his chest as he walked forwards. Each pound was accompanied by a guttural roar that only intensified as it continued. His chest began to breath more deeply, his heart starting to pound furiously as adrenaline flooded his body. Performed by a sole orc, the effect was intimidating enough as he stepped forwards.

His left arm stretched out, reaching as if to grasp hold of one of the dragon's immense wings. A harsh, rasping incantation emanated from his throat, painful to even listen to, as black tendrils arced from his fingers towards the wing. Vultog winced slightly as his eye began to throb to the chant, but maintained the stream of Vitalis magic onto the wing as he continued to step ever closer.
 
It had been beautiful.

The gout of fire, a wave upturned by Artemis’ hand, ribbons of pure, brilliant ocean-blue. Behind the veil of the flicker, a visage like bloodstone, a maw like the hearth. For a moment, Falles imagined its countenance and the curtain of flame, sprawled about fine papyrus. The image of it almost compelled him to sensation.

Then it had spoke, in all its base bravado, its inscrutable, furious contempt. It emoted, in the same way a human, an elf, an orc might have. It had been laughing once, Falles thought. Thus did the papyrus disintegrate, the painting as if held beneath the mouth of the brook. The pulpy remains unfurled, into the face of the laughing rapers, the haughty brigands who claimed their base, transient dominions through the size of their sword-arm. This dragon:

High and mighty, mighty and high, and all the uglier for it.

Disappointment washed over him, just as fire threatened to do the very same.

His right arm gripped his spear, as his left arm pulled the horse by the reins. The familiar jerk of the horse rearing and acceding delivered but halfway, the sudden impetus too much. The steed reared up, and stood still at its apex, before tumbling upon its back. The flames claimed it - years of breeding, training, reduced to nothing but specks of meat amongst ash.

Falles himself was held aloft in the sky, wreathed in indigos, magentas and amber. Wing-tips materialized from the hound’s pores, the Swarm-Capricious emerging from its slumber. As if roused by the taste of combat, the expansion of the babble sped into a frenzy, and before long, a wave of butterflies - as if a microcosm of the fiery torrents - buoyed the stolid Hellhound.

He allowed himself to linger, awaiting, perhaps, a comrade to assist. In the brief stasis, he unlatched a water-skin from his person, indulging his thirst as he eyed Vultog’s magics with some interest.
 
Previously…

The deftness of the man in green had been somewhat absent today. He felt a bit of pity toward his sparring partner, the once-paladin who now poked at him with the same interest of one who finds a rogue mushroom within his salad. Jakob weaved between the blows, but allowed one or two to connect, in the hopes that Falles’ spirit would become more… well, ‘spirited’. He was beginning to lose even that hope, when the general’s voice broke forth.

Jakob’s eyes flashed. A dragon, was it? He checked the pouch strapped to his waist – his few possessions were easily carried, and all were still present even now. That was all he needed, barring a mount. Jakob gave an excited wave to Falles as he strode quickly to the stables.


Now…

Hooves pounding hard upon the earth, it was plain to see that Jakob's horse was being ridden into the ground. But they could not stop. Not yet. Not while there was a dragon to kill.

And then, they were upon the city. Jakob saw it, but as one in a dream - such much destruction, so much death, that it was hard to look at, let alone believe. Fate saw to it that he needn't look for long, as the dragon soared into view with majesty and terror, a moment of awe followed by a bolt of fear. But General Artemis Carrow, quite literally, leapt into action.

Jakob, of course, tumbled off his horse at the sudden stop. Rolling to a stop on the ground, he swiped the hair out of his eyes, only just seeing the general's magic reflect those deadly flames from above. He stared wildly from the dirt at the dragon's size as it crashed to earth, his eyes next straying to the dagger at his side.

"I'm gonna need a bigger knife."

He remembered the name of the once-town, Garas Harbor. As if the peal of a ship's bell had summoned him, Jakob turned to look toward the sea. And as the screams of the dragon signaled the fight to truly begin, Jakob scrambled to his feet.

"I'm going to get the ocean! Don't wait up for me!"

With that, he was off, a swelling of air under his own control blasting him spinning wildly into the sky. Looking down at the rotating world below, the dragon was still enormous, even one hundred feet in the air, and the general oh-so-very-small. But Jakob knew that within her brewed power the likes of which he could not match, and so he again shot off another spout of air.

Whistling through the sky as a human cannonball, Jakob began counting on his fingers. "So, we've… one, two, three, four, five, oh heavens, why did I never bother to learn counting higher? This is why I'm always late for meetings." He crossed his arm in front of his body, consternated, as his rate of descent toward the harbor increased at an alarming rate. "I wonder if water even hurts the beastie. If not, I migh--"

An almighty splash of water consumed the rest of his sentence, much like the waters of Garas Harbor consumed the man just now. The water rose, fell, and rippled for a moment, but nothing came back out of it.

Not yet.
 
AXILYA

Over the course of the journey from the fort to the harbour, Axilya remained silently focused on the battle ahead. Being well trained, her steed required little direction to keep pace with the rest of the Company. Despite the impending reality, the thought of facing a dragon still felt distant, like it might be happening to someone else. In all the time the Rose Company had fought and bled together, they had never taken on a threat quite like this. Yet in the face of impending disaster, her expression showed no sign of wavering to any extreme of emotion.

The greater part of her life to date had been spent flirting with death day to day. Not ever had she dared to presume that her survival through thick and thin was the result of some divine fortune - no, she was alive because she fought to stay that way. In that regard, to fight a dragon was no different than any other foe.

Except that there was no precedent to know if it was a battle that could be won. Even if not, to shrink back would be cowardice. Her even, passive gaze briefly glanced over her companions. At least if today is the day we fall, we shall pass on in good company.

Even as their party came to a halt at the scene of destruction, the General was on the move and issuing orders. While she likely didn’t catch the gesture before taking up her position on a burst of wind, Axilya nodded in acknowledgement of her orders, and dismounted. She fell in two strides behind Vultog and planted her feet, head angled upward and her eyes narrowly focused on the monstrosity arcing across the hazy sky.

Tense and ready to react at a moment’s notice, she began to chant softly under her breath to an even, precise rhythm. In time to each beat, her hands moved through a quick, delicate succession of gestures. To the naked eye, it would appear as though nothing were happening as a result.

After several repetitions of the incantation, her cadence altered to repeating a single short word over and over while her eyes moved to track the dragon. With her focus locked onto the path of its flight she thrust her hands forward and barked out a sharp command, and a cloud of water poured down towards the dragon’s back.
 
Commander Eriana Kiryn
Eriana didn't have to go far for her pack. She had placed it against one of the walls surrounding the courtyard before the exercise, and it only took her a few moments to walk back and retrieve it. She already had her armor and weapons with her--since she had not participated in the exercise, there was no need to remove it. Pack retrieved, she waited as the rest of the Rose Company fetched their weapons and the horses were prepared.

As the Rose Company began to return, she whispered an incantation, hands raised. A moment later, she felt new strength begin to flow through her, deep in her bones. It was a simple incantation, simply increasing her strength and pain tolerance, but it was one that had served her well in many battles. As she finished the incantation, she heard hooves and a soft whinny behind her, and she turned to see a grey mare. She mounted with ease, looking out over the Company from the back of her horse.

They're ready. They have to be. There's nobody else.

As the last member filed in, Artemis gave her orders, and they set off, driving their horses to the greatest challenge they had ever faced.


As the smoke came into view, Eriana's grip on the reins tightened, and she urged her horse onward, despite it already going as fast as it possibly could. Though it wasn't that long before they reached the city, it felt like an eternity before it finally came into view. When it did, her blood ran cold and her breath caught in her throat. The screaming, the destruction, the smell of blood and the sight of it all...it sickened her just as much as it held her attention and overwhelmed her senses.

So much death, so much destruction...when will it end? When?!?

When these damned monsters are finally dead and gone.


As overwhelmed as she was, she didn't realize the dragon was heading toward them until its scream drowned everything else out. She tore her focus away from the ruined city and looked up toward the rapidly approaching dragon, tugging on her horse's reins to slow it down. She was glad she did, as moments later, fire spilled from the dragon's mouth. Instinctively, she raised her arm, shield strapped to it, but she knew the shield would be useless. She began to shout incantations, though she knew there wouldn't be time to complete them.

Then, Artemis threw her hands out in front of her, and the fire was turned back on the dragon. Eriana immediately lowered her shield again and stopped her incantations, drawing her sword as the dragon came to a landing in front of them.

Then it spoke, and Eriana's grip tightened on her sword. So the rumors were true. Today, they'd be the ones to confirm them. Because they couldn't fall. Not today, when so many were depending on them.

Artemis began to shout orders, and Eriana leapt off her horse, slapping the mare's flank as she hit the ground. The mare turned and galloped away, and Eriana sprinted forward, even as the Company sprang into action around her. Artemis took off, and Eriana had only a few moments to brace herself before the dragon screamed again and took off into the air, striking out blindly with its claws. She twisted out of the way, striking out with her sword as she rolled away, before standing again and looking up. There was little she could make out from ground level, but she could tell that the dragon was furious and that blood was dripping. She could also see somebody soaring through the air above the dragon, but before she could figure out who it was, the dragon's claws came crashing down again, along with fire behind her. She twisted forward, striking out again, her sword bouncing uselessly off the dragon's claws. The claws continued toward her, and she raised her shield, striking out yet again, beginning to twist to the side, shouting an incantation to strengthen her attack.

This time, her sword met something and sank into it. Above her, the dragon screamed again, and she could feel the claw it had swept toward her pulling upward, her sword still embedded in it somehow. She lowered her arm and grabbed onto her sword hilt with both hands, yanking it free before she was taken up with it. It had hit a gap, somehow, in the underside of the creature's claw, and as the dragon pulled its claw up, she saw golden blood dripping down.

Armor's not as perfect as you thought, huh? She could see the dragon's head swiveling downward, and she moved to the side, circling around its massive bulk and pulling its attention away from the others, raising her shield and sword, hissing an incantation under her breath to lend her strength and help her survive the no-doubt inevitable attack.
 
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The breakneck ride to Garas Harbour had been one of silent stress and anxiety. Cress had mentally pleaded the entire company to somehow transcend the realm of possibility and simply appear in the besieged city. As they were, they would arrive too late. So many were going to be lost—already lost by the time the messenger had reached the fort.

Long before they reached the city, Cress could smell it. Acrid. Foul. Smoke blotted the sky over the harbour, lingering like some dark portent of things to come, should they fail in their task. A chilling roar rent the air, and the warrior could feel his horse tremor slightly beneath it, though it ran on.

And then they were into the city and under the shadow of the great beast. Around them was utter destruction, unlike anything Cress had before witnessed. He had seen death, he had seen mindless destruction and violence, but he had never seen anything like this. A tightness again seized in his chest, and he felt a surge of unfathomable hatred for the beast. He had always viewed the giants and other monstrous creatures as repulsive and violent—but little more than mindless monsters. They were like animals, lacking complete sentience and not truly aware. Or so it seemed to him.

But this? This was unlike anything he'd ever before experienced. This creature knew exactly what it was capable of and what it was doing. It appeared to revel in the chaos and utter destruction it wrought, and Cress looked on in fascinated horror as the dragon laughed. And then, with another piercing scream, the creature was upon them, fire pouring from its gaping maw.

Reflexively, Cress raised his shield, though the protective barrier of magic proved unnecessary as General Carrow turned the flames back toward the dragon. As orders were shouted, Cress slid from his winded horse and sent it away, wondering if the General's tactic would work more than the one instance. Likely not.

Falling into step with Vultog, Cress withdrew his sword from its sheath. In contrast to the orc's harsh incantation, his own words were soft and low, illuminating the inscription on his blade and shield. Aware of Axilya falling in behind them, her own words mingling with their utterances, Cress stepped out in front, his sword raised.

The beast's focus hadn't been directly on them until the water poured down upon it. With a roar, the immense creature turned on them with a snarl, its jaws opening wide, and Cress knew what was coming. Lifting his shield, his incantation changed to a steady, clipped command and a large, dome-like barrier formed around the shield.

There was a moment, perhaps less than a second, of unknowing fear when Cress could not be sure his spell would stand against dragonfire. But there was little else to be done. Either his shield held, or he, Vultog, and Axilya were done-- not a loss he was willing to accept.

A second incantation was shouted as the collision of flames and barrier flared a bright, brilliant blue as the fire was repelled.
 
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Cinzel Decorative; Trade Winds;

Morna Vaile

While others got in close, and while Morna would normally be right there with them, this was a battle where she decided she'd be best from range. She left her horse with the others, sparing a moment to give its neck a gentle pat and to give it an apple from her pack. Then she was off, hurrying around the the side to be out of the (quite literal) line of fire whenever it started to spit fire again. She made her way around through some buildings, watching the fray as best she could, and she was surprised to see a few people heading right for the dragon in a group. Grouping up against something that could breath fire like that seemed a poor choice, but she was not about to run over there and tell them to change their strategy. She chose instead to focus on her own.

Though he was a brute, Vultog had the right idea this time: go for the wings. Grounding the dragon took away one of its most formidable advantages. Morna started chanting a longer than usual incantation as she crested the top of a set of stairs in a partially destroyed home: one side of the entire building was gone, leaving the remaining part of the upper floor a good viewing platform to see the dragon unobstructed by the smaller buildings. It would leave her quite exposed though, so she maintained her chanting while waiting for a good moment to strike.

As the dragon roared in pain at some unseen strike and then turned its flames toward the trio approaching, Morna spoke the last word of her delayed incantation and held out her left hand balled into a tight fist but for her first two fingers pointing out toward the creature. Lightning burst forth with the booming noise of the air being rapidly displaced, and it carved a bright path right toward the dragon's nearest wing. Morna started chanting again, new words to keep this thread of lightning alive as she slowly moved it back and forth along the wing. This was a stronger bolt than she normally used, and keeping it going continuously was going to make her tired very quickly, but that did not stop her. It was impossible to tell if she was actually cutting through it or even doing real damage, thanks to the bright light making it damned hard to look right at where she was hitting, but she would keep on doing it until she could not any more or the dragon turned its attention to her and made it necessary to flee.

Gamnuri Balgron

The ride to Garas Harbor was rather uneventful, but the boredom faded quickly as the smoke and destruction came into view, and the ride into the fresh ruination was enough to build the tension nicely. The dragon itself was a rather captivating sight as well, even as it tried to roast them all alive, and Gamnuri could feel his jaw hanging slack as the beast spoke. So they really can talk. Perhaps they've got some of the answers I require? There was, however, no time to chat, much to his dismay. General Carrow threw everyone into the fight immediately, as was right and necessary for the protection of what remained of the city. Gamnuri followed orders, leaping from the back of his horse and darting to the side as they fray began. He'd have to try to talk to the beast while fighting, it seemed.

Things looked to be going quite nicely, with Commander Kiryn scoring a blow with her sword and some water from Axilya catching its angered attention as well. The gout of fire shot toward the advancing trio was stopped by Cress' barrier, and it was at best a toss up whether or not he'd be able to outlast that flame, but Gamnuri decided to do what he could to intervene and get the dragon's attention off of the others who'd already irritated it. He'd already talked about punching a dragon in the face, so it was time to live up to the talk.

Gamnuri leapt out from the shadowy side of a pile of rubble, coming in toward the dragon's head from the side. Its eye flicked toward him, making it eminently clear the beast was not surprised, but that was fine. The dwarf pushed himself forward with the force of magical wind, just making it under a raking claw without being hit, and stopped right under the creature's massive head. "What's your purpose here?" Gamnuri shouted up to the dragon as he planted his feet, preparing himself for his attack. "Is it instinct or were you guided here? Tell me your secrets, you overgrown lizard!"

As he gathered flames around his right fist, he also reached into the earth and formed a pillar of rock. What followed looked to observers like a smooth and singular action, but it was in truth a carefully choreographed set of steps. The rock pillar shot up a few feet out of the ground and launched Gamnuri toward the great scaled jaw above him. As soon as that was done, he let go of the earthen side of Elementa and grasped for the air, using it to further propel his movement. As the scaly hide filled his vision, he redirected the air to join the flame swirling around his fist. This was no time for half measures, and the burns he'd receive in the backlash would be worth it.

Gamnuri's flaming fist slammed straight into a scale, and he could have sworn is cracked from the blow. What was certain though was the larger result: the dragon's head jerked upward, pushing its flaming breath up and away from Cress, Axilya, and Vultog to harmlessly scorch the air above them. The dwarf gave a slight grunt of pain as he felt some new burns on his hand, but that was fine. He used his air magic to guide his descent and cushion the landing as best he could, then hurried to get the hell out of range of slashing claws and snapping teeth. He'd punched the dragon alright, and now he just had to live to tell the tale.
 
"Whoaa..." Ryan breathed as he watched Falles escape the fiery grip of death ahead of him, sitting pretty on a bed of butterflies. While Ryan was easily impressed, he had to place the stunt in his top 10 awesome moments, easily. Admittedly, it had knocked Artemis's fire repelling hand wave off the list, but it wasn't like she didn't have other entries on the list.

Besides, Falles's platform of butterflies was going to save his life and knock something off his bucket list that he just added less than a few seconds ago. He was going to ride a wave of butterflies, how cool was that?! "Falles, buddy..!" He called out. "Lend me a hand!" Now was the time to make his own top 10 awesome moments list.

Slowly but surely, Ryan balanced himself as he tried his best to stand on his horse's back, one arm off to the side for balance while the other was raised, reaching for Falles. "Save me, my hero! Save me!" He called out in a way that made it hard to tell if he was trying to mimic a damsel in distress or if he was just scared and his voice naturally reached such a high pitch.

Seeing Falles lower a hand for him to grab, Ryan braced himself to jump, letting out a screech akin to that of an Elk bugling as he threw himself into the air. The maneuver was a success as the hands of both men hands were clasped together in what Ryan would forever recall as the most epic of brotherly handshakes.
Once he was lifted onto the bed of butterflies, Ryan removed his staff from his back, holding the weapon gingerly. "Thanks, friend, I knew I could count on you-the view up here is amazing!" By amazing, he meant that he could see what most of, if not everyone, was doing.

Vultog and Morna were going for the wings and Artemis and the dragon had been staring lovingly into eyes, which Ryan thought was highly unprofessional, before Eriana and Cress took the beast's attention and...did the dwarf just punch the dragon? Well then! New top 10 awesome moments entry! And it made the perfect opening for him to attack. He brandished his staff, his hands over a rune carved into its wood.

Light began to gather at the end of the staff, forming a small but bright sphere. Aiming the staff at the dragon's eyes, Ryan narrowed his eyes as he focused on the shot. "Time for Rye's sunshine surprise." He muttered. The sphere of light was released from the staff, stretching into a thin beam as it zoomed toward's the dragon, hitting the creature in the eye.

The dragon roared in pain from the attack, and Ryan squeed in celebration. He didn't know how great a dragon's vision was, but he was sure that it'd have a harder time hitting his comrades with only one eye. He slapped a hand on Falles's. "Let's kill this thing, friend!"
 

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The scene was something out a history book, or perhaps a nightmare. Needless to say, the sight of the dragon, its sheer size and power was much more intimidating and even awe inspiring than what a dream could conjure. Taria knew the beast had to be felled, but it wouldn't be easy, especially seeing how it had caused so much destruction with so little effort. Already she could hear the sound of incantations from her companions, sending spells the dragon's way. Would they be enough? Somehow she doubted it.

Sliding off her horse and sending it away from the danger zone, she stepped back and ducked behind some rubble from what appeared to once have been a greengrocer's shop. Delaying any action of her own, she watched the dragon from her momentarily safe spot, trying to pry out any weak spots that could help in taking the beast down. Instantly the wings caught her eyes, one being attacked by lightning magic while the other with what she suspected was Vultog's brand of Vitalis. It was a sound idea, that was for sure. Keeping the dragon from escaping to the sky would make life easier for all of them.

She looked away from the dragon, as hard as that was, and to her surrounding instead. From where she stood it would be hard to attack, even with her very large sword. The destruction of most of the harbour city had led to broken buildings that would prove useful in gaining height to deal with the dragon. Concentrating, Taria whispered her summoning incantation under her breath. Mere seconds later, her summon Prongs stood before her, towering almost.

"Thank you for coming," she told him, reaching up to pat his exposed face which wasn't hidden behind armour. It was hard to tell what the magical creature was thinking with its unreadable glowing blue eyes, but Taria never had to worry about that. He was an honourable, loyal companion. "We have a dragon to take down. A new foe, but we can do it with the others. Come on." With that said, she leaped onto her mount, now a good eight feet off of the ground, and pulled her sword from its sheath. "Let's go, Prongs!"

Leading the battle unicorn was as easy as walking for Taria, or perhaps easier, and most definitely faster. Prongs quickly made his way up the nearest destroyed house, cloven hooves barely touching ground as he continued onward, leaping through the air and landing on another platform made of rubble. The sound of the dragon and the heat from its flames was almost overpowering, but there was no helping was had to be done. Taria slid off Prongs back, landing on the dusty once a roof of a now mostly burnt out house. In fact, she was sure it wouldn't last the day.

"Stay back, Prongs." She had half a mind to send him away, but his speed would certainly help her with a quick escape. Her voice carried authority and the battle unicorn listened, so with that said and done, Taria raced forward, pressing down on the purple gem on the grip of her sword. If not hearing it, she could certainly feel the added heat of the blue flames now dancing around her sword. The metal would be searing hot, but the handhold was simply warm, an added feature from Ryan so that the wielder wouldn't end up with useless hands afterwards.

Truthfully, she wasn't sure whether her attack would be able to maim the dragon, but she was here now and she would do her best. The wing closest to her was the one Vultog had attacked, so at least she didn't need to contend with lightning. Raising her sword, partially relieved the dragon was still distracted by those on the ground as well as -Is that Rye?!- she waited but a split second before slamming her weapon down onto the beast's colossal wing, aiming to break through at least one of its joints with the searing hot broadsword.

 
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