Sithelnost - The Gallery of Heroes (Part 2)

08 Newkolt 349 AC

Romulus turned as reinforcements from the Ravagers of Kern rounded the corner two blocks away. They advanced at a trot, feet falling in step. Shields held at the ready, heavy chopping swords in their hands. Loose bits of gravel at Macula's feet rattled as they approached.

The archmage shook his head.

He raised his hand and spoke a single word. Frost evaporated. Breath stopped fogging in the air. The spell swept forward sucking every ounce of moisture from its borders. Skin shriveled. Eyes sank into hollow sockets. Skin pulled tight across bones as the muscles beneath were desiccated. Rank after rank of ogre crashed to the ground - dead of dehydration. The ogres at the back of the column slowed and began to look around, although whether they were seeking escape or a different route to strike at the wizard from was unclear.

With no enemies nearby, Raven drew Luican's bow and set arrow to string. He saw the approaching dragon and fired.

Four crystal-tipped arrows leapt from the bow in rapid succession, tracing glittering arcs through the morning sky. Each found its mark. One after another, they buried themselves deep in the oncoming green dragon's chest.

The wyrm roared in fury, emerald scales splintering beneath the impact, but its charge did not slow.

Ra’ziir guided Redclaw around for another attack, “This time, try to latch on to the beast with your talons and we will punish it all the way down to the deck!” The Bladesinger again sang the Song of Celerity, invoking the elders of the Guild of the Griffon back in Evereska and as his tune reached its crescendo, five magical motes appeared around his hand. He flung his hand forward and the glowing balls streaked away, stretching into darts of mystical energy that battered the dragon's back, alerting it to his presence.

Then Redclaw dove. The griffon's talons extended, seeking purchase between the dragon's scales. The dragon rolled over in mid-air and reached out with razor sharp claws. Talons sank into Redclaw’s neck and started to squeeze.

Redclaw fought like a creature possessed, tearing at the dragon with his own talons, snapping with his beak, beating his wings in an attempt to break free but it did not matter. The dragon's grip was unbreakable.

Ra'ziir raised Grumbar's Razor. "By the Gift of the Blood and the Jewel!" The obsidian blade ignited with smoke and ash. "I SMITE THEE, FOUL SERPENT!"

The enchanted sword came around in a violent arc, striking the wyrm just above the brow. The sword's magic parted flesh, scale, and bone. The top of the dragon's skull separated beneath the force of the strike.

The emerald wyrm's eyes went empty. The grip around Redclaw's neck loosened as the dragon's body went limp.

It struck the Gallery of Heroes with terrible force, smashing through one of the ancient statues lining the avenue. Stone shattered. The monument toppled from its pedestal and crashed backward as the dragon's body continued its descent, finally coming to rest among the ruins.

The entire Avenue fell silent. The remaining Baaz, the few ogres still left standing stared in disbelief.

The Nasty Surprise returned to Shadow, its payload of deadly magic expended. The drow floated in the air, eyes scanning the clouds and the city skyline for the second dragon they were told about. He saw nothing beyond a flock of birds scared into flight by the first dragon hitting the earth.

The battle turned into a rout.

Kysek and Dusk swept down from above, searching for the largest remaining concentration of enemy troops.

He found a platoon of Baaz still trying to reform their lines. Kysek raised one hand and the air around him froze. A wave of killing cold erupted across the formation.

The draconians were caught in the blast, ice spreading across scales and armor as the formation collapsed.

The few survivors broke and ran.

Parnitha continued firing until the end. Even as the enemy fled, she loosed one final arrow. A wounded ogre stumbled and fell beneath the crystal-tipped shaft.

Cedron raised his hand. Divine radiance struck another fleeing Baaz, ending its retreat.

“What is the hand the guides the shadow?” He thought to himself, recalling the divine vision from his earlier prayers. “Something or someone is in charge of the dragon?” He kept looking around, waiting for the mysterious entity to reveal itself. Like Shadow, he saw nothing.

Grotto chased after the fleeing enemies, bringing one down with his axe, saving the spell he had originally thought to cast for a more significant number of foes.

The fleeing Dragonarmy crashed into their own reinforcements entering the Gallery. Confusion spread through the ranks.

The reinforcements looked past the panicked survivors. They saw the fallen dragon and the dead ogres and they turned, chasing their comrades out of the Gallery of Heroes.

Raven turned toward the prisoners behind the invisible, shimmering barrier. "Rom, bring down the wall. We need to get these people out of here."

The archmage shook his head. "Not yet."

Raven turned toward him, brow furrowed.

"Voss said there would be two dragons. We've only seen one. The wall stays up until we know where the second one is."

Above the battlefield, Ra'ziir watched the fleeing Dragonarmy soldiers. Baaz ran in scattered groups. Ogres trampled each other. He tapped a heel into Redclaw’s flank, bringing the griffon around.

"You guys aren't going anywhere."

He pushed Redclaw into a dive. Grumbar’s Razor trailed smoke and ash as the pair descended. He skimmed over and past his companions as he spoke the words to a spell.

A sickly green cloud spilled from his hand. The poisonous fog rolled across the avenue, swallowing clusters of fleeing soldiers before they could escape. They fell by the dozens, coughing and choking as they crashed to the earth, bodies contorting as the poison took hold.

Ra'ziir hauled back on the reins, pulling his griffon into a climb and looped around, searching for his next opponents.

Shadow remained suspended above the Gallery, the wind tugging at his cloak as his eyes moved constantly across the skyline. The dark elf's gaze swept across streets, rooftops, the forest's edge. The sun was rising, it hovered nearly one-and-a-half handspans above the horizon. He squinted against its light, shielding his eyes from its brilliance.

The Gallery of Heroes was still filled with the evidence of battle: shattered stone, fallen banners, broken weapons, and the bodies of those who had fought and died beneath the statues of Silvanesti's champions.

But the Dragonarmy, those left alive anyway, were fleeing.

Even higher, Kysek could see the entire city spread beneath him.

"There must be more," he muttered. The memory of Tarithnesti returned. Six dragons had descended upon that city. Six. Could the Dragonarmies truly be running out of them? Or was this some sort of trick meant to lull them into a false sense of security before the next attack?

Movement below drew his attention. Dark figures moved between buildings. Some bounded across the rooftops before spreading their wings and gliding into the streets below. Others simply dropped from buildings, opening their wings at the last instant to arrest their fall.

They wore Dragonarmy armor, but theirs was heavier and better made than that issued to the common troops. Swords hung at their sides.

They did not behave like reinforcements arriving for a battle. They were grabbing fleeing troops, directing them away from the killing ground, leading them toward safety.

Kysek closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. When he opened them, the world changed. The invisible became visible. Dusk's black feathers were highlighted by the rays of the rising sun. Kysek looked to the east. For just a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of something dark silhouetted against the burning orb.

Parnitha lowered her bow as the Wildrunner transformation faded away. She moved toward the prisoners. The elves looked back at her. Many were too wounded to stand. She knelt beside one of them. The elf raised his eyes and looked at her.

"House Protector...?"
"Are there others?"
"Did Tarithnesti hold?"

"Where are the keys?" she asked.

The elf blinked, still trying to understand what had happened.

"I need you to focus, the keys to your chains," Parnitha asked again, "Where did they keep them?"

A wounded guard looked toward one of the fallen Dragonarmy soldiers. "The officers carried them..."

Parnitha immediately turned her attention toward the battlefield, searching among the fallen.

Cedron waded through the aftermath of the battle. He moved from elf to elf, trying to unlock restraints where he could and tending to those too injured to move. The work was slow going. He looked one of the elves in the eye. "Tell me what happened here."

The elf looked toward the fallen dragon in the avenue. "They came from the east..."
Another captive answered from nearby.
"The dragons came first. The city could not stand against them."

"How many?" He asked.

"Two," an elf replied, "that one there," he motioned toward the beast Ra'ziir had slain, "and another, bigger and ridden by one of the Dark Queen's faithful".

"Are there any more prisoners being held in the city."

The elf  shook his head. "I don't know. Not that I've seen."

Grotto slowed his pursuit. The last fleeing Dragonarmy soldiers were already disappearing into the streets. The battle appeared to be over.

Besides... something else had caught his attention... the dragon.

The dwarf clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together. "Now... that's what I'm talking about."

The green corpse lay among the shattered stones of the Gallery of Heroes, surrounded by the rubble of the statue it had smashed on its way down into death.

Grotto walked toward it, great axe resting against his shoulder.

He rapped his knuckles against the beast's scales.  "Very good."

He drew a small tool from his pack and began searching for a suitable place to remove a few scales without damaging them.

He glanced at his battered armor and shield. "These will make for a nice little upgrade."

The dwarf set to work, attempting to pry free several intact scales.

Kysek kept staring east. He was certain he had seen something. He wondered if it had been a trick of the light. Then it moved again. The sunlight behind it made the details impossible to see, but Kysek knew the shape of wings.

His eyes narrowed. "Something's coming."

Shadow saw it a heartbeat later. From the east came the deep, rhythmic beat of enormous wings.

The second green dragon descended over Sithelnost. The morning sun burned behind it, turning the creature into a dark silhouette against the sky. But this dragon was not alone, figures clung to its sides.

Not Baaz. Not ogres. Something else.

Silver-scaled forms held tightly to the dragon's body as it circled toward the Gallery of Heroes. Two rode along its each flank, armored and armed. Another hung beneath the dragon's forward claws, carried like a prisoner or a fallen soldier. A human rode in a saddle on the wyrm’s back.

The dragon was huge, an order of magnitude larger than the first, and moving far faster then anything that big had a right to.

The rider's voice carried across the battlefield. "Withdraw. All troops, fall back."

And suddenly, the ogres and baaz who were fleeing in panic a moment before began forming into orderly lines and moving with purpose along alleys and side streets leading away from the Gallery.

Romulus watched the green dragon closing in on the Gallery. He glanced to his left. Parintha was trying to free the elven prisoners from their chains at the base of the statues. He glanced right. Those elves were safely protected by his conjured wall of force.

He tightened his grip on his staff. He raised his other hand and spoke the words of a spell that was older than some kingdoms.

Light erupted from the ground in front of the exposed prisoners. A towering wall of impossible radiance sprang into existence between the remaining prisoners and the approaching Dragonarmy forces.

Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.

Each layer shimmered with its own terrible power. Seven deadly obstacles now guarded the most vulnerable people on the battlefield.

Raven watched the approaching dragon. He saw the massive ogre-sized draconians hanging off of its flanks. He watched the rider commanding them. He raised his bow. Four arrows streaked skyward.

Three found their mark. The rider's body jerked with each impact. He looked down as the invading force moved to intercept him and his dragon. He pulled on the reins, he muttered through pain-clenched teeth "Get us out of here."

The green dragon banked violently, abandoning its approach over the Gallery. Its wings hammered the air as it climbed. The draconians began dropping from its sides. The last looked at its leader. "It has been a honor, sir."

And then it let go as well.

Five winged figures began dropping toward the battlefield.

Ra'ziir did not hesitate. He began to sing. The Song of Celerity carried across the sky, ancient words of power woven through the melody. He reached out with the magic, shaping it into a barrier of dispelling force. The draconians fell through it.

Ra'ziir watched the green dragon climb. He watched the draconians fall toward the ground, their wings opening to slow their descent as they picked places to land.

Ra'ziir guided Redclaw low over the battlefield. He cast a second spell.

Arcane energy spread outward. One by one, his allies felt the magic take hold. Gravity relaxed its hold on each of them. Feet left the ground, hovering inches above the earth. They could fly.

Ra'ziir banked Redclaw upward and opened the mindlink. "Raven, do we go straight in or do we set a strategy?"

Raven growled under his breath as Luican's Bow was slung over one shoulder and Nightwatcher reappeared in his hand. "Try to cut him off. I'll come at him from side."

Shadow descended through the morning air toward the others, his cloak snapping behind him. He reached out with his magic and touched the minds of his companions. Strength flowed through them. Muscles swelled with power as each of his allies were affected by the spell.

Thr dark elf nodded, not done yet, he touched the circlet adorning his brow once more, depleting its magic for the day. Arcane energy gathered in his hand. The dark elf looked toward the fleeing dragon.

He hurled the spell.

The fireball streaked across the sky and detonated. Flames engulfed the dragon's back.

For a moment, the green dragon vanished inside the explosion. When it emerged, a second later, it appeared to be virtually unharmed. The dragon turned its head.
Its eyes found him.

Shadow immediately accelerated away from the others. "Come on," he muttered. "You know you want to."

The dragon instead maintained its course and continued flying away with its wounded commander.

Kysek watched the second dragon climbing. He watched these new, unknown Draconians dropping toward the party.

“That’s not good.”

Dusk banked beneath him, following his gaze.

These creatures were nearly twice the size of the Baaz. They were wearing plate armor and carrying wickedly notched swords. There could be no doubt that these were elite troops.

Kysek raised one hand and the air above the descending draconians darkened.
Clouds formed unnaturally fast, gathering over the Avenue of Heroes.

Seconds later, a storm arrived. Ice and freezing rain hammered downward. The reinforcements' descent became far more difficult as jagged hailstones battered their wings and armor.

One landed hard against the stones. Another was driven sideways into the side of a building before recovering.

"Now," Kysek said quietly. Dusk folded her wings. The griffon dropped into a dive, disappearing toward the streets below.

Cedron remained close to Parnitha. The commander of House Protector was still searching through the fallen ogres, looking for the keys to the prisoners' chains.

The silver-scaled draconians had landed. Even now, they were spreading out to avoid being caught in the blast of a single fireball or similar attack. Each had a sword in hand, long and wicked blades with a serrated edge, meant for tearing flesh instead of slicing through it.

Cedron stepped closer. "Watch my flank and I will cover yours, Commander." Parnitha glanced toward him and nodded as she lifted her bow again.

Cedron began to sing. The hymm carried the power of Malazzarr. The sound was not loud, but it seemed to resonate through the stones of the Gallery itself. Parintha felt her exhaustion fade. Her fear was pushed aside, along with the grief she felt over her fallen men in Tarithnesti.

Cedron raised the Harmonic Blade.
The sword began to hum, joining the song.

Parintha raised her bow, drew back the string, and released. Four shots in rapid succession. All of them hit the nearest draconian in the center of its chest.

The glowing crystals shattered against the metal, scattering fragments of glittering dust across its armor. The creature staggered slightly from the impacts. They didn't even slow the creature. It simply brushed the fragments away and continued forward.

Grotto looked up at the second dragon as it turned away then back at the avenue. His eyes followed the straggling Dragonarmy soldiers being guided away from the Avenue's killing ground and tightened his grip on his axe.

Grotto rose into the air, hovering above the avenue.

He pulled his cloak around himself, and the fabric shimmered with impossible colors. Light bent around him, creating a constantly shifting display that made it difficult to focus on him.

The dwarf hefted his returning great axe.
"My lords," he said, raising the weapon toward the battlefield, "let justice and vengeance be swift and unmerciful in this war."

The runes burned brighter.

Grotto grinned. "Come at me, you filth!"

The battlefield vanished.

For the briefest instant, Grotto stood somewhere else. An endless golden plain stretched beneath a brilliant blue sky.

A massive golden bison stood before him. Behind the bison, Grotto saw the prisoners.

He felt the words of the god, "You have fought. You have done your part. Now protect those you fought for."

Then something snorted behind him. Grotto turned and the sky became crimson.

A monstrous red bull pawed at blackened earth, smoke pouring from its nostrils. Beyond the bull were the retreating Dragonarmy soldiers. The dead of Sithelnost lay behind them. The dead of Tarithnesti, elves cut down in their homes. Prisoners dragged through the streets and chained beneath their own monuments.

The bull lowered its horns. "They did this. They are escaping. Justice without vengeance is permission."

The vision shattered. Grotto found himself hovering above the Avenue again. Barely a heartbeat had passed. Dragonarmy soldiers were disappearing into the streets.
To either side of the Gallery, the prisoners waited beneath the statues. His runes burned, some with golden heat, others with crimson fire.

Grotto slowly looked one way. Then the other and somewhere in the heavens, neither god offered the slightest assistance.

Romulus watched the silver-scaled draconians advancing through the Gallery of Heroes. They advanced quickly while maintaining space between each other, moving a calm precision that revealed a professionalism the fleeing troops had lacked.

"Fascinating."

The nearest draconian raised its sword, prepared to charge. The halfling spoke a single word and snapped his fingers.

Lines of shimmering force erupted from the stones around the draconian, forming a perfect cage of invisible power. The creature struck the walls immediately, battering them with his blade and claws. The cage held firm.

Romulus tapped his heels against Macula. The leopard moved toward the captive.

The Sivak stopped. It looked through the transparent barrier at the halfling wizard standing calmly outside.

Romulus regarded it with the same expression a scholar might give an unfamiliar artifact. "We have fought the others before. You are something different."

The draconian snarled but said nothing.

Romulus glanced toward the retreating dragon. "Your commander trusted you to delay us. That makes you worth learning from."

The draconian snarled but said nothing. It remained motionless for several seconds. Then it crouched and drove its claws into the stones beneath its feet. The first layer of earth and broken stone gave way easily. Then its claws struck something solid. The draconian paused. It scraped again. For the first time, a hint of frustration crossed its reptilian features.

Romulus watched the draconian. "Clever. I can see why your commander trusted you to delay us. That makes you worth learning from."

As soon as Ra’ziir's flight spell took hold, Raven was airborne. His boots left the paving stones of the Gallery behind as he took up the chase.

But the dragon was faster. Its massive wings hammered the air, carrying its rider farther away with every heartbeat. Raven pushed harder but it wasn't enough. The distance between him and the wyrm continued to grow.

Raven stopped chasing it. Instead, he raised Luican's Bow. He hovered in midair and drew back on the string. He fired a single shot. The feathered shaft crossed the distance between them. The rider never saw it coming.

The arrow struck high in his back, burying itself beneath the armor near his right shoulder blade. The marshal lurched forward in the saddle. The dragon gave a furious roar and dipped a wing, reacting to the sudden impact, banking left and shielding its commander with its massive body.

Digging his heels into Redclaw’s flanks, Ra’ziir urged his mount to greater speed, “C’mon Big Red, we have to prevent their escape!”

Five powerful beats of Redclaw's wings carried them only half the distance covered by a single mighty thrust of the fleeing wyrm's wings and the gap continued to widen.

Grumbar's Razor trailed smoke and volcanic ash as the Bladesinger raised one hand.

The air itself began to die. Moisture evaporated from the sky. Clouds thinned as the dragon flew directly into the spell.

The effects of Horrid Wilting rolled over the creature and its rider, stealing life-giving moisture from everything caught within its reach.

The green dragon roared but continued forward. Its rider remained in the saddle.

Ra'ziir shook his head and begin to sing. He called upon the Song of Celerity once more. Five missiles of pure force formed and streaked toward the Dragonarmy commander.

Something flared on his chest, a brooch used to fasten his cloak in place. The magical bolts swerved in mid-flight, diving into the enchanted jewelry. The brooch shattered and the final missile struck directly.

He swayed in the saddle and, were it not for the straps around his legs, he would have likely fallen from the dragon's back.

Shadow squinted against the rising sun. The green dragon was already becoming a shape against the brightening sky. He pushed his magic harder, the enchantment of flight carrying him faster through the air. It still was not enough. Shadow reached for the Nasty Surprise.

A quick phrase passed his lips and the dagger leaped from his hand and streaked across the sky after the fleeing dragon.

The drow drew Swiftwind. The blade gleamed as his scabbard invoked the magic of Keen Edge, sharpening its already deadly edge beyond mortal limits.
Then Shadow leaned forward and flew, hellbent on capturing or slaying the commander before he could escape.

The green wyrm roared and continued climbing, its magically enhanced wings drove it farther away with every beat. Even at their greatest speed, they were losing ground. They were not catching the dragon, not today at least. The wyrm reached the lowest clouds and vanished into them with only a swirl of mist to show its passage. Then there was nothing.

Kysek wheeled Dusk around, weaving in between the statues on either side of the Avenue, setting up his attack run at just

the

right

angle.

The silver-scaled draconians were spreading out, guiding their fleeing brethren in a disciplined withdrawal.

Kysek narrowed his eyes and urged Dusk down, lining up the largest cluster of Dragonarmy troops. Magic gathered around his hand. He thrust his hand forward with a shout of "ЦОНЕ ОФ ЦОЛД!"

A wave of freezing air erupted outward.

The blast caught the formation before they could scatter. The six Baaz draconians had no chance. The cold engulfed them, freezing scales, armor, and weapons in an instant. Their bodies collapsed where they stood, frozen statues among the ruins of Sithelnost.

The two silver-scaled draconians caught in the center of the blast were different. The magic washed over them, frost covered their armor and ice formed along their wings, but they remained standing - unharmed by the potent spell.

They looked up as Kysek faded back into invisibility and Dusk pulled up, out of reach of any reprisals. She dove toward the cover of the surrounding buildings, further thwarting any attempt at a counterattack.

For a moment, neither draconian moved. Their eyes tracked the path Kysek and Dusk had taken out of the Gallery. One flexed it wings. The coating of ice cracked and fell away. "Invisibility."

The other nodded. It did not look surprised. It watched the shape of the retreating dragon disappear into the clouds and then toward the ruins of the Gallery. "Gather what troops remain. We'll lead them to the fallback position."

The other lowered its weapon. "It shall be done."

Cedron allowed his sword to continue the inspiration, and moved into position, baiting one of the massive draconians forward.

As it closed within range, Cedron lunged unexpectedly, striking the draconian between the forearm and bicep on its left arm. The giant scaly dragonman hissed and raised his blade but the minstrel-priest was already in motion, battering its ribs and tail with his sword four more times before it managed to swipe at him with its own Greatsword. As the heavy weapon swept down toward him, the Witching Cloak flared to life, hardening its fabric into a shield that absorbed the blow.

Then the draconian's second attack came. The creature stepped through the opening created by the first strike and brought the greatsword down again.

The blade struck Cedron with enough force to drown out the battle raging around the bard.

Parnitha took aim, firing four more arrows at the advancing draconians. The first and fourth shattered against its breastplate. The second glanced off of a shoulder. The third struck scales but couldn't penetrate.

She lowered her bow. "You have got to be $^%@;# kidding me."

The commander slung the bow over her shoulder and drew the silvered warhammer from her belt. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way."

The draconian grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the early morning sun. It didn't hesitate. The massive draconian swung. Parnitha brought her hammer up to intercept, but the sheer weight behind the greatsword drove through her defense. The first blow struck hard, rattling her armor and forcing her back a step. The second followed immediately. The blade crashed into her again with enough force to drive her down onto one knee.

Before she could recover, the draconian lunged forward. Its jaws opened and fangs dug into her shoulder with a vicious snap. Blood sprayed. The commander managed to wedge her hammer in between her body and the draconian's and pushed away, tearing her flesh even further, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The bull and the bison faded away. Grotto shook his head, returning fully to the battlefield. He continued to hover above the Avenue, his cape flickering and shimmering with impossible colors.

The conflicting dictates of the two gods had been clear.

Kiri-Jolith wanted the innocent protected. Sargonnas wanted vengeance for those who had suffered.

The silver-scaled draconians were still coming. The runes beneath his skin burned hotter.

"I will be the blunt object to deliver the justice their suffering demands."

He raised his axe. "None approaching will leave this place. The suffering of their jailers will be long..."

The axe spun once in his hand.

"...and painful."

Romulus turned his attention away from his captive and back to the battle. Parnitha was in a hard spot, down one knee with a nearly 10'-tall Draconian with its sword raised over her head.

He pointed one finger and shouted, "DARASTRIX IXEN!" A thin green ray erupted from his fingertip.

The beam crossed the distance instantly and struck the draconian in the side of the head. The creature screamed as the magic began eating through its body. Silver scales blackened, cracked, and turned to dust. Plates of armor corroded away as the destructive energy unraveled the creature's body layer by layer.

For a moment, it looked as though the draconian might collapse. Then it planted one foot firmly against the stones.

The creature shook its head, smoke rising from the damaged areas of its body as it raised its greatsword to deliver another punishing blow.

The two Draconians searching the sky for Kysek continued to look upwards. Watching and listening for any sign of their attacker. A shadow passed overhead and Raven dropped down in between them with Nightwatcher already in motion.

The black blade came around in a brutal arc. He put everything behind the strike.

The impact was enormous. The blade carved through armor and scales, driving the Dragonarmy warrior backward. The creature staggered, one foot sliding across the stone as it fought to remain upright. It caught itself and lunged forward. Its partner surged ahead at the exact same time. Greatswords swept in from opposite directions.

A lesser warrior would have been struck down but Raven was wearing Dickory’s Clock. The magical bracers whispered to him wordlessly, telling him where the blows would fall. Raven shifted left. The first sword passed through empty air. He ducked beneath the second. Both swords missed him by inches. Looks of confusion crossed the draconic faces.

Ra'ziir broke off his pursuit of the green dragon and wheeled back toward the Galley. He kicked his heels into Redclaw’s ribs, urging him into a dive.

“Alright Red, I’m going to help our friends on the ground. You stay above us. Watch the skies. If you see anything coming our way, warn me."

The griffon shrieked in response.

"Do not engage without me, these are some tough bastards!”

The griffon screeched again.

As the ground raced up to meet them, Ra'ziir began to sing. The words carried magic as he invoked protection, reinforcing his body and making it as hard as granite.

Ra'ziir released the reins. The Eldritch Knight dropped from the sky toward the battle below, Grumbar's Razor already trailing smoke and ash.

He landed beside Parnitha. She looked up, relief spread across her face.

Grumbar's Razor trailed smoke and ash as the Bladesinger sped forward.

The greatsword came across in a powerful defensive sweep. The obsidian sword struck steel. Sparks flew.

Ra'ziir flowed around the parry. The momentum of the blocked strike brought him back around. This time there was no defense. The volcanic stone carved from collar to hip.

The draconian froze for a moment. Then its death registered and it fell. But as its body struck the stones of the Gallery, its form began to change. Scales and flesh twisted until the silver-scaled warrior looked back up at Ra'ziir with the elf's own face.

Shadow watched the green dragon disappear into the clouds. It was simply too fast to catch. Shadow’s Nasty Surprise flew back to his hand.

He turned, eyes scanning the ground below. He spotted Cedron locked in combat with one of the massive silver-scaled draconians.

He pointed and Nasty Surprise shot forward. The dagger streaked across the battlefield, twisting through the air toward Cedron's massive opponent and struck.
The creature reacted instantly, turning toward the unexpected attack. He dove toward the draconian, Swiftwind in hand.

Kysek banked Dusk back in for another attack should there be another Draconian standing; he saw the two silver Draconians on either side of Raven and called out "κεραυνός!" He hurled a lightning bolt against the uninjured one. For an instant, the creature became a silhouette of pure light.

Its skeleton flashed beneath its scales as electricity surged through its body. The draconian staggered backward.

But it remained standing.

The Ring of Gyges flared and he vanished once more.

He turned Dusk away but instead of climbing remained low, skimming the streets and weaving between buildings as he prepared to come around for another pass.

The draconian spins, a dagger in its back. That was all the opening Cedron needed. Shadow dove after it, Swiftwind already in hand.

Below, Cedron staggered from the force of the previous blow. For a moment, he was back somewhere else - the streets of Aquilonia. He had been a young punk out to make a name for himself. He remembered the guards and their batons, he remembered the beatings he had taken.

Cedron spat blood onto the stones. The creature turned to face him. "You know... sometimes a good smack... brings CLARITY."

Divine fire, a gift from Malazzarr, crawled along the edge of the Harmoic Blade. He struck, driving the sword in beneath the lower edge of the draconian's breastplate. A wet gurgle was all that escaped the draconian's mouth before it fell. "Pain is temporary."

The flame brightened. "Progress is forever."

It too, shifted forms. Silver scales were replaced with patches of light, westher-tanned skin and blond hair. A reflection of Cedron looked back at him from the ground.

With the pressure off of her momentarily, Parnitha looked around. She spotted Raven flanked by a pair of wounded draconians. She set her hammer down and picked up her bow again. She took a deep breath and fired at the back of the lightning-struck draconian. The first arrow shattered against the back of the draconian's shoulder. It barely reacted.

Parnitha was already drawing again. The second arrow flew and found the gap between the overlapping scales at the base of the skull where the neck met the spine.

It pitched forward, toppling onto its face, its body twisting and morphing into that of the female elf who finally slew it.

Grotto hovered above the battlefield, just beyond the reach of the fighting below. His runes burned, the pain feeding the fire in his veins rather than slowing him. To the mad dwarf, if was proof that the two, no, three, competing gods vying for his service were watching and pleased with him.

He raised his axe. "Kiri-Jolith shall be your judge!" His voice thundered across the Gallery. "Sargonnas shall be your executioner!" The runes burned brighter. "Hanseath shall guide his vessel!"

The colors of his cloak shimmered and danced, casting multi-hued shadows across the Gallery of Heroes.

Grotto grinned. "I bring justice and vengeance upon you in this war!"

He gripped his returning axe with both hands. He spun it once to build up speed and hurled it.

The weapon tore through the air toward the wounded draconian Raven had already bloodied, sinking deeply into its back. The draconian's sword clattered to the ground as the axe flew back to the dwarf's outstretched hand. The silver-scaled warrior fell, its body going through the eerie transformation into the form of its killer.

Silence finally fell over the battlefield.