Much taller than before, just over six feet tall. Her once green hair has turned into a coal black. And that green seems to have seeped into her skin. Yellow mixes in with the green in her eyes. Tiny tusk poke out over her dark green lip.
Tiny boots rip apart with her expanding foot size. The leathers around her legs tears at the seams and the multi colored scarf unties. Her red vest rips as does her leather armor. A once loose blue shirt is tight around her larger torso. Bracelet clasps break and clink on the ground.
Grabbing at her head and pulling her hand back from the differences. Looking at the green hand held over her face. Wiggling her fingers and looking shocked. Sitting up fast and tucking her knees against her chest. Looking up and not having to look as high to find faces. Tears start running down her newly green cheeks. A deeper and rougher voice whines, ”Whats going on?”
Azmur, having prepared for this eventuality, throws a rough fur blanket over Nisany's shoulders. "You've been returned to us from the River of Souls. It's not an easy journey for a spirit to take, so you might feel weakened for some time. Take heart..."
The druid's voice is raspy, and he quickly wearies of speaking. He steps back, leaving the rest of you to console the gnome-made-half-orc.
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Syksy silently does as the Druid instructs and tries to eat as many berries as her stomach will let her before she stares in awe at the proceeding, then at Nisany the Tall's return.
The awe gives away to blankness though for the longest, finally being broken by "Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooly f@**. It worked. F@%~ YES!" she finishes with throwing her hands up before rushing over to hug Nisany. "You're back! Vibe gets to be the small spoon now. I get to be the small spoon now! I never get to be the small spoon!" she blubbers as she holds her lover.
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Vibenia watches with reverence, silently calling out to all of nature to grant power to Azmur's spell and bring Nisany back. Her eyes go wide as Nisany's body crumbles, her glowing inner life-force reforming into a much larger, powerful frame.
Half laughing, half crying, she rushes over to kneel beside Syksy, on Nisany's other side, wrapping her arms around her. "Thank the Green you're back!"
Bernard stands at the back of the room, and when Nisany reappears as a half-orc, he makes a sign to Abadar and whispers a short prayer.
"Welcome back," he says, voice soft with awe.
After a moment of blissful reunion and a period of much-needed rest in the relative safety of the Iroran chapel, Azmur once again interrogates you on your encounter with the mummy. He also inspects the black iron key, comparing it to sketches in his notebook, apparently to his satisfaction.
"That must've been Abbot Kanjougas," he muses darkly. "To imagine he was still... around, if not exactly alive, decades after the death of his order. Good riddance, I s'pose. Anyhow, this key should offer us passage to the Dark Window itself. I'll accompany you, as promised—whenever you're ready. But remember, once we close the window, it's only a matter of time until Aeteperax goes on a rampage and destroys Belhaim. We have to move quickly."
The druid pulls out a handkerchief, which he unrolls to reveal three black pearls. "I scavenged these from the basement. The dragon makes us lieutenants run through an obstacle course of sorts to meet him, something the monks used to test pupils on Iroran virtues. I usually take the overland route, but I was curious to see if there was anything I could use to close the Window. These beads should hold the magical energy needed to do just that, if used properly."
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Burying into the Hellknight's hug. Smiling against Syksy's neck at her rambling and leaning back into Vibenia when the Huntress joins the hug. Wrapping one arm around Syksy's waist, able to reach so much further. Twisting her other arm to hug Vibenia around the waist as well. She did not feel much stronger than before and their armor was not at all comfortable. But it felt stabalizing.
Glancing up at the Patchwork hero and smiling awkwardly around her new tusks. Pressing her face into the metal that keeps Syksy so safe and smiling dispite not being in the right body. I can panic about that later. Dragon first. Body panic later.. I died.. I came back but the others are still gone.. The smile fades and what little reflection she can see in the armor doesn't look right.
"Thank you, Azmur. Your help has been... invaluable." Bernard takes a deep breath, draws his blade once more, and considers the group.
"We're almost there. The Dark Window awaits. Shall we get this over with?"
And if the party agrees, and Azmur is willing to join them, Bernard will lead everyone back up to where they were stymied the last time.
"Yes, thank you for giving Nisany back to us. Now it's our turn to return the favor," Syksy tells the Druid before turning and nodding at attention to Bernard.
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"It's okay Nis, we'll get you through the changes...together. You're not alone Love." Vibenia says softly.
Taking the time to get everyone as healed as possible, before Bernard suggests they advance, the Huntress nods, loading her crossbow and standing up. "You have our undying gratitude, now let's go get you your family."
Azmur nods gravely at each of you in turn and hefts his satchel.
Still less than enthused about facing a full-grown dragon, Viterri takes this as her cue to leave. She tells Syksy that she intends to report back to Maralictor Hermacora. "Someone has to report back to the Order if you don't make it out. Who else is gonna take care of all the beasties running about?"
After saying your goodbyes, you ascend the spiral staircase, passing through the ransacked libraries to reach the secret passage leading to the Dark Window. The abbot's black key in hand, you unlock the sigil-carved iron doors and step into the bleak chamber beyond .
There is a low drone which fills the room, like the sound of a vast wind, yet the air is eerily cold and still—your breath comes out as vapour. A fifteen-foot grid of blood-red arcane symbols has been inscribed on the floor. Two similarly written five-foot sigils sit to the northeast and southeast of the grid, gleaming with crimson light.
Above the grid hovers what appears to be a vertical hole in reality—a rectangular pane of obsidian that looks out into a night sky in which only a few tiny stars are visible. Whichever angle you choose to peer at the aperture, it appears to face you head-on without any perceptible change in perspective, as if the thing does not conform to any sort of recognisable law of projective geometry. The Dark Window is roughly fifteen feet square, running from the north and south points of the symbol below. It hangs suspended a foot off the ground, and comes within three feet of the ceiling above.
Azmur shudders at the unnatural chill, but keeps his attention on the task at hand. He focuses on the sigils and begins leafing through his journal. "Yes, this looks familiar. Give me a few minutes, and I think I can make sense of the markings..."
Making sure to collect her tattered clothing. Using the cloak to make a skirt and her colorful shirt around her chest. Looking around sheepishly, "I know its a long shot but does anyone have a spare set of armor hidden away? Or at least some cloths?"
----
Trailing behind the others out of habit but her its no longer a struggle to keep up. Staring at the Window. The strangeness is captivating and horrifying. Not even registering that her fingers are trembling. Fire and undead fists dance before her eyes. Swirling and mixing with the infinite darkness just beyond that Window.
"We do have the chainmail armor, cloak, and stuff from Pentosh. It might be a little snug, but it's better than nothing." Vibenia suggests, rubbing her hand against Nisany's back.
Bernard stares into the dark rectangle, eyes going wide as he comes to a complete stop only a few paces into the room.
His face goes pale beneath his thick beard, and he takes a step back, eyes glassy as he blinks.
"That, ah... that's... I mean, Abadar..."
He passes a shaking hand over his face, then turns away from the window as if wrenching himself back from the edge of a vertigo-inducing ledge. "How... I mean, what exactly are we meant to do? To close it, that is?"
Azmur half-shrugs at Bernard, his brow furrowed at the hasty scribbles in his notebook. "That's what I'm attempting to find out. I'm sure it has something to do with these outer scribbles, and how they relate to the big mess of scribbles in the middle, but it's—"
The druid is cut short by a flash of shadow from the Window, like something had passed over the near-starless firmament. Suddenly, a six-eyed horror extrudes itself from the aperture, squeezing through like a torrent of semi-gelatinous foulness: it looks vaguely like a dead tree with clawed arms, spidery legs, and a mouth bulging with tentacles. It moves with unnatural malleability, like it was without bones and had no fixed mass or shape. A sharp, acrid smell fills the chamber as its clambers in and begins lashing out with its twitching "branches" and other mismatched appendages. It gargles and gasps nauseously, dribbling from its tentacled mouth.
Along with the assault on all the senses, there is a drone which fills your very minds—a wordless promise of a painful death—a slow and ever-lasting nightmare of torturous malignity—a pitiless void with no life or light. One half-image follows the next in a seemingly endless phantasmagoria of otherworldly agony.
Azmur staggers back, holding his temples as he is assailed by the psychic noise. "That... that's the creature that slaughtered the monks! Steel yourselves!"
The druid raises his arms, raising his voice into a defiant chant.
The Verduran Forest has a few obscure legends of hunters or woodcutters coming across such monstrosities, though often they are misidentified as malicious fey or wrathful nature-spirits. Unless slain violently, yangethes are immortal, and they can pursue their prey to other worlds if need be. They have no bones to break, so a club or mace would do little—even spells have a difficult time piercing their rubbery skin, though they are curiously vulnerable to cutting weapons. Both physically powerful and magically potent, they possess various cruel methods of crushing their enemies and driving their victims to confusion and madness.
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As the six-eyed horror begins to squeeze itself through the dark window, Bernard can't help but take a step back, his face going bone-white beneath his beard, his eyes bulging in horror.
"Azmur! Stop that thing! Close the window - stop it!"
When the druid proves unequal to that demand, Bernard takes another few faltering steps back, sweat beading his brow, his sword nearly dropping from his meaty fist.
His eyes only widen as he stares at the monstrosity, his frame buckling as the psychic shockwave powers through him, blood immediately beginning to trickle from his nostrils and ears.
"The eyes!" he calls out, voice growing high pitched and horrified. "The eyes are burrowing, they're growing inside me, I can feel it moving through the air, through the spaces behind the air, inside the dark corners, don't you see? Don't you see?"
Never looking anywhere but the window. Her fingers stpo shaking but then that thing starts to crawl its way out. Managing a half step backwards and whimpering/. Grabbing her ears but it cant drown out the noise. Digging her nails into the sides of her head.
"It's called a yangethe! A horror from the stars. Pretty much immune to blunt weapons, resistant to magic, and vulnerable to blades!" Vibenia calls out, quickly getting over the overwhelming revulsion and steeling her mind against the unnerving droning noises.
"Damn it, the sound!" she curses, raising her crossbow, she fires at the abomination.
Syksy’s eyes widen in determination before they dull over in tune to the drone. ”It’s not a bandersnatch. Just go snickersnack and it’s done. Or is it a Jubjub bird.... no those are birds... maybe. Is this a bird? No. Snickersnack.”
The noise is persistent, it matches the rhythm of her heartbeat booming in her head. Everything quickly goes grey and her vision starts to narrow. The ground gets closer and then darkness.
Vibenia's shot sinks into the yangethe's tree-like trunk. What the bolt pierces into is something quite unlike bark, however, instead behaving like the leathery skin of some deep-sea creature. From the wound gushes a sap-thick yellow liquid which reeks overwhelmingly like rotten eggs.
With most of the front line out of action, Dusk charges in alone to defend her pack. The monster rakes her flank with its jittery claws, putting her out of balance and foiling her attempt to sink in her fangs. The wolf-hound dodges the next few swipes, but she is surprised by the sudden twitching of the abomination's root-like tentacles, which extend towards her with unnatural elasticity. They whip out and twist themselves around her, squeezing until she ceases moving.
Azmur completes his incantation, which is answered by a peal of thunder. There is a sudden patter of rain as dark clouds begin to form near the ceiling. Rather than unleashing the power of the storm right away, the druid rushes to heal Nisany's wounds. The magically conjured thunder-clouds roil unabated.
Bernard emerges from his bout of madness to see Dusk go limp in the monstrosity's tentacles. The sight galvanizes him into action, and he leaps forward with a roar, his terror forgotten, his outrage total.
Bernard charges in, cleaving mightily into the yangethe's bulk. Still preoccupied with Dusk's unconscious body, it cannot raise its various extremities in time to defend itself, and the burning blade cuts deep. The abomination lets out a shrill gargling noise, like icy nails on a slime-covered chalkboard. Foul-smelling yellow bile splatters the esoteric symbols drawn across the floor.
Azmur steps forward and raises his arms, only to bring them down in a dramatic gesture. The roiling clouds answer is call, spewing a bolt of lightning at the enemy. "We belong in this world; this world is our home. You are nothing here!"
"Die, die, die, DIE, Vibenia,shrieks as she fires away at the unnatural creature.
Awake but still disoriented, Nisany ends up banging her forehead against the flagstones. Syksy raises Wyrmsmite—now a gently curving blade of eastern design—and strikes down at Vibenia, under the delusion she an enemy. The ranger manages to dodge the first blow, but the second cuts deeply into her arm.
Both of Vibenia's shots are mere nicks, but the wounds are starting to add up. The yangethe twitches and screeches wildly, dropping Dusk's limp body in the process of attempting to shield itself. It suddenly goes on the offensive, assailing Bernard with its claws and tendrils, raking him across the cheek and battering him with no intention to grab and constrict, as it did with Dusk. Whereas it might have been toying with the wolf-hound, the creature now fights for its unnatural life.
The claws and tendrils rake across Bernard, battering him to and fro, so that it's almost a miracle that he's still standing when they retreat for the barest moment. Armor dented, blood sheeting down half of his face, he raises his blade again and gives a wild, nigh incoherent cry of rage as he swings down at the monster once more.
Vibenia steps away from Syksy, continuing to fire at the creature, that caused both her lovers' confusion, and had her companion on the brink of death. If she could kill it she could help them.
"Wha, wait, no, I wqas attacking, no, not again, where is, no, wait, wait, I'm," Syksy begins blubbering uselessly.
Wincing and staring at the floor. There is blood on the floor, right below her. Looking up everything floods back. Pushing up with translucent fire on her hands. A wave comes off of her, rushing towards her friends and parting around the creature from the Window.
Now that it has turned its full attention on them and shed Dusk's weight off its tendrils, Bernard and Vibenia find the monstrosity to be tougher than anticipated: his first strike rebounds off the yangethe's rubbery skin, and the second—certainly powerful enough to behead a mortal man in a single sweep—is not instantly fatal, though it does sink deep; her bolts ricochet, failing to penetrate.
A wave of life-giving energy bathes the area. Noting that Bernard is still worse for wear after Nisany's efforts, Azmur rushes to his aid. Using the former guardsman as cover, he weaves a quick incantation, imbuing Bernard with a greenish glow. His wound close and he feels a firm sense of rootedness which rejuvenates him.
The yangethe appears to understand what is happening, as it swiftly moves to apprehend an obvious healer: as its claws continue to scratch at Bernard, quickly undoing Azmur's work, its tentacles snake past him to wrap tightly around the druid's midsection.
"Now would be a good time to snap out of it!" he groans to Syksy, as he is pulled closer to the monster.
As Nisany's healing energy washes over her, wan as it is, Dusk jumps up determined to get back into the fight. Seeing Bernard attacking the thing, she follows her training, dashing around opposite him and tearing it the monster with her deadly jaws.
Breathing a sigh of relief as she sees Dusk rise, Vibenia rapidly fires a pair of bolts at the creature, hoping to bring it down as quickly as possible.
Dusk continues her attack, only to find herself fended off by the creature's flailing tendrils.
Bernard's body is rent and healed and then rent again, all in a matter of seconds, with huge, devastating gashes flaring open to spill copious amounts of blood only to seal over under Azmur's regnerative magic.
The waves of pain and relief are enough to drive a mind mad, so Bernard does the next best thing and simply ignores it, fixating on the beast before him and his attempts to put it down.
Busied with the thrashings of Azmur, who is struggling with all his might against the tendrils ensnaring him, the yangethe is unable to stop Dusk from slipping by. The wolf-hound tears off a small tentacle at its root, causing a torrent of viscous foulness to torrent out on the floor. This causes the abomination to gurgle and shriek even louder, its various extremities flailing wildly. Whatever spell had been forming on the druid's lips is cut short as he gets slammed against the stone flags.
Gouting profuse amounts of blood and surrounded from both sides, the monster fails to defend itself from Bernard's next attack: slashing clean through its arm and cleaving deep into its body, he is soon joined by the newly-roused Syksy, who hacks mightily at its many tentacles. Together they finish the otherworldly horror, cutting it into small, quivering chunks. Little remains as the creature quickly deflates and dissolves into a puddle of malodorous, brown-and-yellow slurry.
Released from the yangethe's grip, Azmur stumbles back to his feet. He retrieves his notebook, now splattered with yellow ichor, and wipes it off against his furs as best as he is able. "Gah! Well done, but we still need to hurry—something even worse might slip through, unless we shatter the gateway."
When properly inspected, all of the symbols on the ground radiate a strong aura of transmutation magic. Pooling their arcane knowledge and looking at the druid's notes, Azmur and Nisany quickly reach the same conclusion: the smaller sigils are linked to the grid—the former serve to heighten magical effects focused on the latter. In particular, pure magical force—such as the energy produced by the beads Azmur scavenged from the basement—seems to be enhanced by the sigils.
With this knowledge in hand, Azmur and Nisany move to destroy the unnatural portal for good. They step onto the smaller sigils on the floor, and thus empowered, both of them cast a bead at the Dark Window. The first salvo results in a noticeable cracking of the obsidian-smooth surface, accompanied by an eerily amplified, teeth-grating sound of cracking glass. As the third and fourth beads hit the Window, there is bright flash of a myriad lights, as if all the faraway stars had rushed towards you simultaneously—and then darkness. The runes on the floor still flare red, and the foul stench of the swiftly dissolving yangethe permeates the vicinity, but the room is now without the otherworldly stillness you notes when you entered.
"It's done," sighs Azmur, leaning wearily against a wall. "Let's get everyone patched up. As soon as you're all ready, I'll... I'll lead you to the dragon's lair, overland. May the Wyrd guide us true..."
Bernard sits heavily on the ground, sword clanking upon the floor as he releases it, his body a tapestry of pain.
"Well done, everyone. Almost there. Just the small matter of a... a dragon to take care of. Azmur? Nisany? Any love you could show me would be well appreciated. Else I may not be of much use in the fight to come..."
Crouching to run her hands through Dusk's fur affectionately, Vibenia breathes a sigh of relief. Taking a potion, she drinks it down before taking out the rib bone wand. "There's a few charges left to this one, let's see how well healed we can get everyone."
Looking at the severity of both Bernard and Dusk's wounds, Vibenia exhausts the wand trying to provide at least some substantial healing to them both.
Bernard heaves a sigh of relief as his wounds wash away, and while he's still not fully healed, he at least feels like he can take more than an angry dragon's glare without falling over.
"Much better, thank you, Vibenia. Well? Shall we press our luck to the extremes? If we can defeat... horrendous... mind shattering horrors from the Dark Tapestry, what's one little dragon? Positively mundane, hey?"
His false cheer doesn't quite touch his eyes, but Bernard moves to scope out the doorway in preparation of their departure.
Taking the opportunity to channel that ghostly healing fire to heal everyone and then touching Azmur on the shoulder, hoping to bring him back to peak health for what is to come.
Azmur leads you downstairs and out of the monastery, through the yard and over the fence in a daylit reversal of your previous infiltration. There are no signs of grioths anywhere on the grounds, though you see a drake flying above the Dragonfen to the west. On the way, the druid explains that Aeteperax picked a cavern near the peak of one of the northern hills as his lair. Though it is only a few hundred feet away from the monastery, the dense undergrowth and craggy terrain make approaching the cave difficult. Once you reach the bottom of the last slope, Azmur tells you to wait—assuming the shape of a small, dappled owl, the druid flies up the incline and then tosses down a knotted rope, which makes the final climb much less arduous.
Once everyone has reached the hilltop, Azmur—having shed his feathers—holds a finger to his lips and points to a nearby bush, gently pushing it aside to reveal a hole in the rock. Looking around, you notice there are numerous similar entrances across the vast, even-topped peak of the fell, all similarly overgrown with vegetation.
The druid crouches down to allow everyone a peek...
Underneath is a verdant grotto, an enormous cavern which bears the mingled smells of plants and mineral-rich water. The arched, naturally pillared ceiling looms at fifty feet above the floor, most of which is carpeted with dewy moss and lichens. Sunlight filters in from the openings above, with patches of low-growing grass and shrubbery dominating the areas where it most often reaches the bottom, leaving clutches of mushrooms to rule over the lightless reaches of the cavern.
There is a darkened tunnel leading to the south . Other, smaller cave-mouths lead northwest , off a natural balcony that wraps around the entire cavern twenty feet off the floor. There is a freshwater pond of uncertain depth at the southern edge of the greenery, which extends out of sight.
At the opposite end of the cavern is a large, domed alcove with a forty-foot high apex. A nest of sorts covers its floor, made from neatly arranged layers of grasses, leaves, and evergreen boughs. On the nest roosts a sleek, green-scaled reptile, elephant-sized with a prominent horn on its snout and leathery wings on its back, seemingly licking its wounds. Scattered around it are the torn-apart remains of nearly a dozen grioths, their blue ichor staining the moss.
"Looks like he's lost control of his minions," whispers Azmur. "That's good—it means destroying the mirror worked as intended. Now it's just a matter of bringing the fight to him. If we rappel down from the southernmost opening, we should have some cover from the walls and the pillars..."
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Bernard stares intently at the nesting dragon, hardly believing that the moment has come. He flexes his fingers on the hilt of his blade, wanting to draw it, but refrains.
Drawing back from the hole, he turns to his companions.
"Well, this is it. Everything has brought us to this moment. All our struggles, our sacrifices, our losses. From the very first moment we offered to help with the collapse of Hunclay's tower. Before we go in, I just want to say that it's been the honor of my life to fight beside you all. Vibenia, you've matured into an admirable leader. You make me proud to know you. Nisany, your care and love for our group has been the invisible backbone to our success, and only now does your form match the size of your heart." He pauses, smiling sadly, a little self consciously at the sound of his own words. "Skysky, you're a bewilderingly coarse and impressive source of unending cheer and violence. I wouldn't want to go into this fight without you by our side."
He pauses, grimacing, and then sighs. "And just a mention to our comrades, fallen or departed. Khardir, Zaijka, Nyzaj, and Beldraim. Would that they could be with us now."
A brisk breath then as he sets these thoughts aside, and he turns back to the hole. "The more cover the better, I'd agree. I'm terrible at sneaking, though. It's a fifty foot drop. I should definitely go last, so as to give everyone a chance to position themselves before I inevitably give the game away. Any other thoughts on tactics?"
"Spread out enough to make it hard to target all of us with his breath at once." Vibenia says quietly.
"All right, good talk, good talk," says Bernard, wiping the tears of emotion from his eyes. "Let's go get that dragon."
And so saying, he unspools his rope, ties it to the closest firm object, and begins letting himself down into the great cavern below, making every effort to descend silently.
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Smiling at Bernard, "And you have been a stalwart shield and it has been a joy to know you." Moving to the edge and planting a kiss on Vibenia's and Skysy's cheeks. Blinking back tears, "Glad your mine."
Moving down the rope and trying to steady her pulse, terrified the thudding might echo on the walls. Staring down and mumbling, "Got two spells. One lasts awhile and should help with the acid. The other isn't as long but will make you harder to hit. So once we are closer"
Azmur gives everyone a curt nod, and then reads a litany of druidic incantations—as a result, his skin roughens to the colour and consistency of pine-bark. When you lower Dusk into the cavern, he treads the air nearby, keeping her calm; and when you rappel down, he floats close to aid you in your descent. Once everyone has made it safely down into the southern nook of the cavern, you steel yourselves and round the corner, staying in a loose formation.
As you step out, you can see that Aeteperax has risen to his feet—the alertness in his posture gives you the impression that he was already conscious of your presence before you emerged. He slithers down from his nest, sword-length claws digging into the rock, and raises his sinuous neck into a position of regal contempt. He opens his wings, which span the entire width of the alcove and beyond. The dragon measures thirty feet from horn to tail—a menacing figure indeed.
The self-proclaimed Lord of the Dragonfen speaks, his voice filling the chamber like a peal of thunder:
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Solemn and tranquil as they traveled after the fight with the horror from another dimension Syksy was equal parts psyching herself up and bracing herself for the glory and horror that came with combatting a full on dragon.Her heart was pounding in her ears from anticipation, all other fights up to this point may as well have been childish scuffles and brawls in her mind.
"I couldn't have hoped to be surrounded by a better team as we take on a dragon, those I gladly call my family, and if I fall I can think of no better way to go before my mother than protecting the ones I love against such a monster. My loves, Vibe and Nis, uncle and sis Bear and Dusk, not-yet-but-soon friend Azmur, let's go save your wife." she says with determination, and although she did not say aloud her thoughts gave praise and prayers to her Hellknight siblings who lost their lives on this mission. "Please, I know I'm a joke of a Hellknight, but just this once, let me do this right," she asked sincerely of them watching from whichever plane of Order they now dwelt in that she could never go to.
Once in the cave proper she resist for time being to taunt the dragon after his boast, waiting to see how Vibe or Bernard wanted to play it.
"Okay eveyone, fan out and move forward. He's going to bluster and threaten and try to rattle us. Remember, the fate of the town, and Azmur's family is up to us." Vibenia says, trying to keep stolidly focused as she looks at her companions, her eyes lingering on her loved ones.
"Let's do this!"
Bernard grips his blade tightly and breaks into a direct run, going all out, armor clanking as he races toward the distant dragon, heart hammering in his ears and his pulse seeming to echo within the helm, melding with his harsh breathing so that the whole world seems to fade away but for the loud sounds.
Across the garden-like cavern he races, doing his utmost to reach the distant dragon.