The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 6)

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI

With his conjured blade concealed it the dragon's claw, the conjured sword attempts to return to its master. The wyrm relaxes its grip enough to feel the direction it is trying go and follows that pull.

Below, Kysek pulls another scroll from his bag of tricks. As the elf quietly reads the scroll, the ink ignites, consuming the parchment. An enormous hand materializes, composed of pure force. Kysek concentrates, sending the massive construct skyward. The dragon's eyes widen in surprise as the hand bursts out of the foliage and flies toward its throat. The dragon releases the conjured sword and grabs the hand, holding it at bay as it continues to dive.

Once freed, the flying sword immediately resumes its attack. The conjured blade circles, slashing at its former captor, glancing off of the thick jade scales covering the dragon's belly.

At the same time, Raven loops back towards his foe's hind legs and delivers slashes with Nightwatcher. Adamantite slices through the green dragon's inner thigh. Tendons part, scales split open. The blade hews through the femoral artery. Blood fountains from a wound that would probably prove fatal on its own. The elf doesn't let up for even a moment. Nightwatcher bites just above the ankle joint. The dragon's rear claws separate from the leg entirely. The mangled limb flails uselessly. Two more blows follow in rapid succession. Each one deepens the damage. The dragon begins to tumble through the air. Wings flail, trying to recover. The dragon rolls end over end through the sky, trailing blood like a crimson banner. The dragon's eyes close as it slips into death. The beast crashes into the forest. Ancient trees snap like kindling. A path of destruction tears through the canopy as the dragon plows through the woods below.

Raven hangs in the air, bleeding from his own wounds. He takes a moment and thinks toward Ra'ziir, "Found Kysek being chased by a pair of greens. Lost track of him in the trees. One dragon is down, going after the other."

Kysek's green dragon sees its comrade fall. It continues to wrestle with Bigby’s hand, it continues trying to protect its eyes from the conjured sword. It pushes the hand down with all of its strength and exhales corrosive breath all the path the sword was trying to follow. The poisonous cloud tears through the forest, rolling through branches and leaves in a widening cone of death. Trees blacken where the vapor touches them. Leaves curl and fall. Small animals flee or perish if they fail to flee quickly enough.

Kysek sees the cloud descending and reacts instantly. His magical boots carry him upward and sideways as he pushes off a nearby trunk. The invisible elf glides away from the center of the spreading poison, carefully skirting the outer edge of the deadly vapor. The chlorine rolls past, close enough to smell but not close enough.

Above him, the dragon continues wrestling with Bigby's Hand while trying to track the elusive caster through inference and instinct alone.

ALSO EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI (from the second farmhouse)

Smoke still rises from what is left of the two white dragons. The halfling archmage whistles and Macula comes bounding out of the trees. Romulus swings into the saddle and with a gentle tap of his heels, spurs the leopard forward.

The great cat moves with effortless grace despite its size, slipping through the undergrowth as though the forest had been made for it alone. Romulus swings into the saddle and guides the cat toward the scouts.

The surviving dragon rider had somehow managed to get his feet beneath him. His armor is battered and dented from the fall. Blood seeps from rents in his mail and runs down one leg. One arm hangs stiffly at his side. Even so, he remains standing and dangerous. A morningstar rests in his hand.

The scouts have formed a loose circle around him, bows partially drawn, spears ready. None of them look eager to be the first one within reach of that weapon.

Romulus reins Macula to a stop a short distance away. He looks at the enemy warrior for a few seconds and sighs. He pulls a pipe from his pocket and packs it with leaves. He presses one finger into the top of the bowl. There is a flicker of light as he inhales. As he exhales, he sighs. "It would have been more convenient for me if the fall had killed you or if the scouts had finished you off after you hit the ground.

He takes a puff from his pipe. The man says nothing but his eyes dart from the halfling to the elves.

Romulus settles deeper into the saddle, "If you surrender, you won't be harmed and we will take you to Tarithnesti for questioning." His tone remains calm, matter-of-fact even.

"Resist and I will kill you where you stand."

The words hang in the air, not a threat, just a statement. "I find that distasteful. I am no executioner."

He takes another puff. "But this is a war." The smoke drifts between them. "So allowances will have to be made."

Romulus looks directly at the battered warrior. "It's your choice."

The warrior straightens as best as he is able, "Then you will have to kill me. I made an oath."

Romulus rolls his eyes. "Captain.. Commander? You're treating this like a choice between surrender and honor."
He takes a puff from the pipe. "It isn't. You've already failed your mission."

The fighter sags slightly.

Romulus continues: "The question now is whether your failure ends here. If your cause is as important as you believe, then your duty is not to die. Your duty is to survive."

"It's Captain. I am Garrick Voss, 3rd White Dragonarmy. I... surrender." He closes his eyes and allows his morningstar to fall to the ground. It lands with a dull thud.

He opens his eyes and looks at Romulus. "If we come across any of my men, they will be treated properly if captured."

The archmage nods, "And you will keep them in line." He then turns to the scouts, "Form up, single file." He motions to one gaggle of troops, "You five out front. The prisoner in the center with me. The rest of you, fall in behind us. Move out!"

AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY

Grotto carries on. He asks Cor, "Once we exit the hidden tree passage, what can we expect? Best us fighters lead the way of course. No telling what may be laying in wait!"

Cor gestures ahead into the darkness. "The passage emerges through the roots of an ancient tree. The opening is concealed from outside observation and has served as an emergency evacuation route for generations."

He pauses. "We shouldn't find anyone waiting at the far end."

The word 'shouldn't' does not escape Grotto's notice.

Cor notices the look and gives a slight shrug. "It's a war. Nothing is certain. But the route isn't widely known. If the Dragonarmies discovered it, I'd be very surprised."

"When we emerge, we'll be roughly a mile downriver from the Protector's Tower, he continues, "We'll be outside the immediate battle area," Cor says. "From there we can move the refugees toward safer positions while determining what's become of Tarithnesti."

Ahead, the tunnel bends and fresh air drifts through the darkness. The sounds of the river can be heard. The hidden exit cannot be far away now.

RA'ZIIR'S SQUAD (FLYING TOWARD TARITHNESTI)

Ra'ziir and his scouts continue to race toward Tarithnesti. Thoughts race through his mind. "It feels like I've been flying for two weeks. How much further to the quarry?"

Then one of the scouts points. "Look!"

Ahead, through the trees, above the distant canopy, he finally sees it.

The beacon.

The crystal atop the Protector's Tower flickers and flashes like a captured star. Even at this distance, its radiance is unmistakable. Pulses of silver-white light flash into the sky, growing brighter with every heartbeat.

Then he spots the dragons. One white and one green.

The distance makes details difficult to discern, but he can clearly see thay the dragons are not circling. They are diving toward the Tower.

A moment later, he catches the flash of a fiery column descending from the sky. He recognizes it as a Flame Strike.

So close and yet so far.

And then, behind him, he hears a pair of roars.

Ra’ziir looks over his shoulder to pinpoint the dragon’s locations, then ahead to his scouts…

“It’s time for your vengeance.. let us take the fight to them!” the Bladesinger says to Redclaw as he pulls on the griffon’s reins and banks hard in an attempt to put the dragons in his line of sight. The scouts follow, turning back to face the dragons alongside their captain.

Drawing Grumbar’s Razor, smoke begins to trail from the blade, hiding him from view.  The bladesinger chants the words of a spell to disrupt how the physics of gravity functions, creating an area where things fall UP instead of down and targets the path immediately in the path of his adversaries.

The first dragon, the one bearing the human rider, passes into the area of reversed gravity and suddenly shoots upwards into the sky.

The black-robed elf turns his focus on the baaz, assaulting his psyche with a spell meant to frighten its victim to literal death. The draconian's head snaps back as the spell hits. Its body goes rigid in the saddle.
The red dragon beneath it growls in confusion as its rider suddenly goes limp.
One of the scouts cries out in triumph.

A moment later, the baaz slowly sits upright again. Blood trickles from both nostrils. Whatever horror Ra'ziir forced it to witness clearly found purchase, just not enough to end its threat. The draconian wipes the blood away with the back of one clawed hand.

The creature turns its head toward Ra'ziir and bares its teeth. Then it reaches forward and strikes the dragon twice on the back of the neck. The baaz points directly at the scouts, the flying elves surrounding Ra'ziir.

The dragon understands immediately. Its eyes narrow and a cruel grin spreads across its reptilian features.
Then the beast inhales.

The scouts recognize the danger at once. Warnings erupt across their formation.

"Scatter!"
"Dragon breath!"

The red dragon's chest swells.Heat shimmers around its jaws and then it exhales. A roaring cone of flame erupts across the sky. Ravenous fire pours toward the nearest scouts, transforming the air itself into a furnace. The nearest elves immediately break formation, diving and twisting through the air in desperate attempts to escape the expanding wall of flame.

Two avoid the worst of it. The rest are reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER

Cedron steps to the very lip of the railing surrounding the beacon crystal. The light from the glowing crystal, making himself into an obvious target.

The green dragon spots him immediately and roars a challenge. It flies toward him, straight as an arrow and picking up speed.

Cedron watches, estimating distance, counting down as a prayer forms in his heart. The priest shouts, "PROGRESS WILL NOT BE DENIED!” He raises his holy symbol, the prayer spills from his lips.

The air directly before the dragon tears open. Thousands of gleaming blades materialize in a vast curving wall suspended in the sky itself. A spinning, shrieking barrier of divine-edged metal that appears directly in the dragon's flight path.

The dragon's eyes go wide. It brings its front legs up the cover its face and crashes through the wall of blades. It emerges from the barrier trailing blood and even angrier than before. Great, green wings flare out, halting its forward momentum. All four legs reach out, claws sinking into the stone walls. Massive muscles flex beneath wounded scales as entire chunks of stone are ripped from the tower's exterior.

Blocks are torn loose in seconds and hurled into the air. Below, masonry crashes onto rooftops and streets. The kapaks drop their battering ram and fall back to avoid being crushed beneath the rubble.

On the other side of the tower, Shadow feels the impact of the green dragon. The entire structure shakes with each stone ripped from the outer walls. Still, his eyes never leave the white dragon.

The drow smiles. "About time." He throws the black orb at the frost wyrm. The sphere streaks toward the dragon, its surface crackling with deathly energy as it races toward the white dragon.

The death-infused orb hits the dragon in a wing and bursts open. Necromantic energy courses through the dragon's body, seeking to stop its heart. The wyrm roars, fighting through the spell through sheer force of will. The effort causes its muscles to seize, leaving it unable to move. The dragon glances off of the Tower and spirals to the ground below, smashing through some trees before coming to a stop in the street.

Shadow’s Nasty Surprise continues to dart around, striking at the dragon's rider. He manages to get a shield up, blocking the flying dagger while trying to unbuckle the straps holding him to the saddle.