The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 2)

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI

Kysek triggers his wand of lightning. The bolt leaps from the enchanted baton and streaks through the air toward the rider atop the second dragon. The blast strikes an invisible field surrounding the rider and dissipates harmlessly.

Dusk beats her wings rapidly, picking up speed as she heads straight toward the other dragon's rider. As she draws closer, the aura of terror that surrounds the wyrm's washes over her. Kysek the sense of impending doom that comes with facing such powerful creatures. The elf calls up the discipline developed over more than a century to steel his nerves.

His griffon has no such tools to work with. Her eyes go wide with terror. She panics, breaking and diving toward the cover of the trees.

The dragons bank, turning after their much smaller target. The first dragon exhales a poisonous cloud of gas. Dusk plunges straight into the caustic fumes. Kysek manages to cover his face and hands with his cloak, avoiding the brunt of the attack. Bubo easily dodges the attack, his smaller body weaving around the edges of the cloud.

As Dusk and Kysek emerge from the far side of the cloud, the Knight of the Barrie Grange instantly sees that many of Dusk's black feathers have grayed and are falling out by the fistful, revealing reddened skin beneath.

The dragon carrying the rider Kysek shot at with a lightning bolt sweeps wide in a broad circle meant to keep the griffon rider from slipping past.

The rider atop the first dragon lowers his lance into attack position as his mount begins to accelerate.

ALSO EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI (from the second farmhouse)

Romulus shouts, “Spread out! Cover! Don’t bunch up!”

Scouts dive from the trail in all directions. Some throw themselves behind fallen logs and boulders while others simply sprint for dense tree cover.

Romulus leaps from Macula's back and slaps the leopard on the rump, "Go!" He then turns to face the dragons diving towards him. Arcane energy swirls around his fingers as he barks out a short, mystic chant. "Xemm ug gusdi!"

An invisible barrier rises out of the ground, forming into a dome above the archmage. The dragons increase their speed, diving, claws extended, expecting him to dart one way of the other in a futile attempt to escape.

The first white dragon slams into the invisible barrier with bone-crushing force, its roar exploding through the woods as it rebounds violently and crashes into the trees. Its rider is thrown from his seat, crashing down and snapping branches as he is ejected from the saddle. Pine needles spiral through the air from the sudden collision.

The scouts on that side of the path rush the downed man, spears at the ready and fall upon him with the savagery usually only seen in lesser goblin-kin.

The second dragon banks hard to avoid the unseen barrier, clipping treetops with its wings as it climbs.

The fallen rider struggles to his feet as spears and shortswords crash against his armor.

ON THE EASTERN RIDGES

The echoes from Njigba's horn haven't even faded before Ornforithalas begins giving his next set of orders, "Company! Form up on me! The city needs every blade we have!"

Scouts begin dropping excess gear, shedding the weight in favor of speed. Ornforithalas sets off at a run, descending the ridge trail at a rapid pace. Elven boots carrying the wearers down twisting paths through the trees.

"Fast as you can without losing cohesion!” he calls over his shoulder. “Eyes open for aerial movement! If dragons circle back, I want warning before they’re on top of us!”

ON A DOCK, DOWN BY THE RIVER

Grotto looks towards the sky and sees the dragons flying toward the very place the just left. "I have made a huge mistake!" Thinks Grotto. "They are in great danger!"

He hears the horns. He sees the dragons approaching with scaly figures clinging to their legs. Instantly he realizes that this is an assault force being delivered to the front steps of the most vulnerable members of the community. Gravel sprays beneath his boots while his breath hammers in his chest, every instinct driving him uphill toward the coming battle.

Grotto knows the choke points. He makes haste. "I must get there! I must defend them. I'll hit them from behind"

Grotto runs. His body aches, lungs burn. He feels the runes burning his skin. He doesn't know which god gives him this boon. He doesn't know. He doesn't care.

That's when the vision hits him. For an instant, the quarry trail is gone.

He sees a great bronze bison standing upon a battlefield beneath a storm-dark sky. Its "mane" of thick shoulder hair flutters in the wind, and warriors rally behind it—not because they are unafraid, but because courage has become stronger than fear.

The vision crashes through him... "Stand. Protect. Hold the line no matter the cost."
The bison's gaze fixes upon him, and for a heartbeat Grotto feels strength flood aching muscles that should already be failing.

The vision changes violently. Bronze light becomes crimson flame. A crimson condor drops from the sky. As it lands, it transforms into a broad-chested bull. A towering shadow with burning eyes turns toward him—not noble, not gentle, but wrath made divine.
.
The sensation that follows is not comfort.
It is vengeance sharpened into purpose... "Make them pay. Break those who prey upon the helpless. Let your enemies learn fear."

Grotto staggers but keeps running, the two divine impressions warring inside him like hammer strikes against an anvil.

Justice.

Vengeance.

Honor.

Wrath.

Opposites—and yet, in this moment, both driving him toward the same destination.

ON A DOCK, ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE RIVER

Eilra rushes to the base of the Protector's Tower. As she reaches the entrance, she sees the great front door hanging partially open, swaying slightly in the cold wind funneling down from the upper levels. No guards challenge her approach. No sentries hold the threshold. They abandoned their posts to run to their Commander's aid.

Faintly, from high above — WHIRRRRRRRR.
A rising mechanical-harmonic vibration pulses down through the tower structure itself. The beacon powering up.

And layered beneath that sound comes something else: Steel scraping on steel. Reptilian hisses.

She spins, drawing her cutlasses.

Five kapaks, their mottled scales blend unnervingly well against the dim stone and shifting light, making them seem less like creatures emerging from hiding and more like darkness deciding to move. Acidic saliva drips from partially opened jaws, sizzling wherever it strikes the floor.

They had been waiting, watching the entrance.

Eilra immediately gives ground—not in panic, but with precision. She retreats backward into the doorway itself, forcing the fight into a narrow choke point where the draconians cannot fully surround her.

They spread slightly anyway, claws scraping stone as they advance with predator patience. One crouches low, another circles wider outside the entrance searching for an angle, while two more begin testing her guard with faint feints and probing movements.

The fifth simply stares at her, its tongue flicking once through needle-like teeth. It smiles, already anticipating the taste of her blood.

AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY

At the mouth of the mineshaft, Vaelin reacts instantly. Slipping into cover behind a jagged outcropping, he sets a crystal-tipped arrow to his bowstring, eyes never leaving the white and green wyrms as Draconians begin dropping from the sky. Stubby wings slow the fall of the soldiers, who hit the rocky ground at speed. Some stumble and recover immediately, others land with terrifying precision. As one, the attackers begin moving up the trail toward the cave mouth.

Cor watches their approach and doesn't wait to count them. He heads deeper into the darkness and calls out, “Draconians at the surface! Defensive positions now!”

Scouts scramble for barricades and firing positions. Bows are readied. Civilians retreat deeper into the tunnels in hurried groups, grabbing and carrying children as they go.

Cassidy immediately pushes to the center of the chaos, waving his arms dramatically as only a kender could while somehow still sounding completely serious.

“Alright! Nobody panic unless it’s a very interesting panic!” he announces loudly. “Children deeper into the tunnels! Stay with your parents! No wandering off to explore mysterious glowing caves while dragons are attacking us, please! We can do that later!”

A few terrified children actually stop crying long enough to stare at him.

Cassidy points farther into the tunnel network.

“And somebody help Therionel! If he falls over, I am absolutely not carrying him myself. He’s all elbows and grumbling!”

Meanwhile, Jensolyn pushes against the crowd, making his way toward the surface. Cor and the remaining scouts are hard on his heels, racing to protect the entrance to the mine and civilians sheltering below.

Vaelin is alone at the tunnel entrance, watching as the Draconians advance with shields held over their heads and notched swords in their hands.

Having delivered their troops, the green and white dragons bank away from the quarry in unison, their great wings beating hard as they climb back into the sky.

Toward the Protector’s Tower.

AT THE FIRST FARMSTEAD (en route to Tarithnesti)

Ra’ziir continues leading his remaining scouts through the air and along the path toward their destination. Scanning above, ahead, and to either side of the vanguard, he keeps a vigilant watch for any airborne adversaries with his ability to see things made invisible.

The elfemental hears the crack of thunder echo over the woods. He turns his head, trying to discern the source. Raven also turns at the sound. The two glance towards each other. The bladesinger "thinks" to the swordsman, "That came from the west."

Ra’ziir allows Redclaw to continue toward the quarry while keeping his watch for adversaries, especially focusing on the west. Searching for the source of the sound with his enchanted vision, the Eldritch Knight looks for their unseen foe.

"Continue without me. I'm investigating that strike," Raven thinks over the mindlink.

Ra'ziir replies, "Will do… just let me know before you end up on another fairy errand...”

"I will give you as much notice as they give me!" Raven peels off from the back of the group and heads west, back towards the farmstead the group left only a short while ago.

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER

“Master! Elven horns are blowing!!” Spewer calls out to Shadow through their mindlink. Shadow says, “Commander, we are going to have company. I will get Cedron and then we have to go.”  With a click of his heels he activates his well worn boots of speed. There is a blur of movement and he has drawn his rapier, Swiftwind, from its enchanted scabbard adding an extra keen edge to the elegant weapon and holds it in a salute to the commander and does and abrupt about face and flies out the window he came in and up towards the top of the tower scooping up his familiar along the way and calling out loudly “CEDRON, WE ARE LEAVING!!” As he nervously scans the sky for dragons.

As the dark elf exits onto the balcony, he sees the shapes of the falling Draconians and watches as the white and green dragons change course and begin heading toward the Tower.

Cedron seizes his opportunity. He moves in and attacks the dragonic enemy with his Harmonic Blade. He says nothing. He acts, as if everything depends on lighting the tower. Nothing else. No longer burdened by conscious concern, he attacks his foe. Seeking to end its life. His sword works high and low, finding holes in the dazed Kapak's defenses. A low hum, rising and falling in pitch with each thrust and riposte accompanies each strike. Blood flows freely from the assasin, dripping and smoking on the stone floor of the balcony.

The kapak doesn't even try to fight back. It lunges, desperately trying to get past the minstrel-priest to reach the green key crystal. Cedron opens a deep gash across the draconian's shoulder blades. The creature staggers, slamming into the base of the giant crystal and slumps to the floor. Its reverse-curved dagger clatters to the ground beside it.

Cedron focuses on his ring again, directing another stream of force at the kapak. The beam lifts the draconian off of the floor and carries it out over the edge of the Tower's roof. Cedron cuts the power off, dropping his attacker. As it falls, it spreads its wings, catching air and gliding down to the ground, landing behind a cluster of similar creatures gathered at the base of the Tower.

A faint female voice echoes up from below, "Really? Are you $^@&# kidding me?"

Cedron, hearing the voice, looks over the side and sees the six kapaks below.

Shadow’s mind works quickly as he ascends—measuring time against sound, vibration, and the cadence of incoming threats. Dragons. His time with the Knights of Daggerford had given him plenty of experience with aerial assaults to know what comes next.

From sighting to engagement, once a flight like that commits to a target… it’s seconds, not distance, that matter. Their arrival is imminent. Soon enough that hesitation becomes fatal.

At the same time, he focuses inward, completing the spellwork without slowing his ascent.

Arcane energy folds around him and Spewer in a subtle but distinct shift—cold resistance settling into their bodies like armor woven into flesh and spirit.

Parnitha's office falls silent. Broken furniture lies scattered across the floor. Some of it still smolders, a result of the Aurak's death throes explosion. The air feels heavy with magic. The Tower hums as power builds inside the crystal beacon.

She takes a ragged breath. Despite Cedron’s healing magic, the wounds she suffered fighting the draconian mage and the ensuing blast still haven't closed properly.

She exits her office without hesitation, boots striking hard against the corridor stone as she moves into the stairwell. The climb is grueling —narrow spiral steps rising toward the upper chamber where Cedron and whatever remains of the enemy now contend for control of the beacon.

Above her, the sounds of combat sharpen—steel striking steel, a reptilian hiss, the scrape of movement against stone. Cedron is still fighting. The beacon is still active.

She stops, closes her eyes. Air scrapes into her lungs. She draws in more, swelling her chest to capacity and she screams.