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Bernard's fearless charge appears to confuse the dragon, at least for a few seconds—he watches the former guardsmans' approach with a mixture of disbelief and indignation. A wave of pure, atavistic terror makes Bernard shake to his core, but it comes mingled with a sudden surge of confidence: you have pierced "mighty Aeteperax's" disguise, taken away his lieutenants as well as his minions, and defied him at every turn. Blood glitters on his scales from where the grioths struck him. He is not invincible, no matter how much he might boast—a formidable threat, but not an unbeatable one.
Azmur keeps back. He calls out a now-familiar incantation, causing dark clouds to gather near the ceiling of the cavern. He reaches up towards the storm and pulls down, causing a bolt of lightning to strike the Aeteperax in the back—the dragon twitches, letting out an ear-shattering roar:
The druid grits his teeth and looks pleadingly to the rest of the group, though he continues to stand firm.
Vibenia moves beside Dusk, crouching beside her stalwart companion and running her fingers through her fur as she reaches out to The Green, beseeching the primal power of a successful hunt. "Go girl! Take him!"
A pulse of...something, washes over Dusk as Vibenia's prayer is answered by Nature, the wolf-dog feeling the surge of power, before taking of at her mistress' command, tearing across the field and going wide to match Bernard's charge into battle.
Nisany takes cover behind a pillar. Syksy follows Dusk and Bernard from a slight distance, staying back and to the side to avoid getting clustered up.
Recovering from his moment of stunned incredulity, Aeteperax lets out a contemptous snort—his greenish spit pits the stone where it hits the floor, with an audible hiss of corrosion. The dragon starts to beat his wings, the resulting gust pushing against Bernard and Dusk's advance like a windstorm. He flies disregardingly over the both of them, opens its mouth, and then rains down a cloud of fine, acidic mist on those who might cause him harm from afar.
Both Azmur and Vibenia are caught in the mist. Azmur staggers from the pain, his druidic wards shielding him from most of the acid, but not all of it.
Aeteperax lets out a thunderous laugh.
Managing to avoid the worst of the acid spray, Vibenia grits her teeth trying not to scream as most of the acid gets through Azmur's protective spell, locking her eyes on the vile would-be tyrant, and sending a pair of shots streaking toward him.
Seeing the dragon fly overhead to attack Vibenia, Dusk reverses her course, racing toward where the creature hoves, ready to attack if it dares to land.
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”Huh, what was that Szangi? I couldn’t quite hear you over there.” Syksy calls out in an aloof stage voice as she watches the dragon flap his wings.
"Damnit!" shouts Bernard as he staggers to a halt, turning to watch the dragon fly overhead and back toward his friends.
For a moment he feels helpless - how by Abadar's sacred gold anvil is he going to help against an airborne foe? And then he decides that he might as well do what he can, and races toward the most central pillar which he begins to climb as quickly as he can.
Vibenia proves to be even more of a threat than Aeteperax had thought, in all his prudence: her first shot is a hit, delivering the ancient dragonslayer's bolt deep into his flank. There is a burst of brilliant energy as the bolt eats away at his flesh, its antithetical enchantments sparking with the righteous wrath all of those who have been terrorised by dragonkind. Aeteperax's roar of pain is near-deafening, and the second bolt is swatted away by the disarrayed flutter of a wing.
Reeling from the sudden agony, he looks at the ranger with newfound hatred. The dragon is wholly unprepared as Syksy makes casual mention of his original name, choking up for a moment as if he had breathed in some of his own acid. He trembles uncontrollably, frothing at the mouth with blood and corrosive spit.
With bestial growls and Draconic curses, the scaled beast descends on the armiger. He lands with a earth-shaking crash—which, curiously, seems to cause only minimal harm to the cavern's verdant plant-life. He leads with his teeth: as his jaws close around Syksy, she feels her tomb-found armour buckle and creak as the monster's fangs pierce weak spots and crush her bones even through the magically enforced steel. The only reason she is not thrown off her feet is the fact that Aeteperax plainly does not expect her to still be alive when he lets go. He rears over the aspiring Hellknight, moving like a cat that has entrapped a mouse, cutting off all possible escape routes. The spot where Vibenia's bolt landed is blackened as if with fire or pestilence, and bleeding more heavily than such a small wound should.
Azmur hurries forward, though as he is unable to reach Syksy for immediate healing, he instead continues to pelt the dragon with lightning.
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Vibenia is hit with a wave of conflicting emotions, from the surge of elation upon seeing the Dragonslayer's bolt hit home with devastating effect, to the pride and smug satisfaction as Syksy's use of Szangi's name staggers him in midair, and the feeling of her heart leaping into her throat as the enrage dragon descends upon her knight, an emotion she could feel echoed by Nisany.
'She'll survive this, she grounded him. Just breathe, aim, release...we kill him, everybody goes home.' she thinks, releasing one of the bolts, that while less powerful, were still enchanted to harm dragons, taking her time and opting for the perfect shot rather than a rapid assault.
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Racing across the distance like a bolt from Vibenia's weapon, Dusk lets out a vicious snarl as she leaps on the dragon, fangs viciously tearing through his flesh as she fights to protect Syksy.
Syksy takes a moment to steady herself, hearing Vibe and Dusk she didn't even need to look past the dragon's legs to see the loyal wolf-dog in the perfect position to strike, trained flawlessly by her love. Her gasps turn into giggles as she stares back at the maddened dragon staring her down, none of his presence and awe having any effect on her. "Okay... that it? My turn, Szangi." she cooly says as she grips her now more familiar than ever weapon.
Bitting the inside of her cheek hard and scooting around the rock. Trying to stay as close to the rock as possible. Not a coward.. If I die now I can't keep them alive... Please don't die..
Groaning at the distance then feeling for her burnt book. A small wave of translucent fire rolls out. But does not touch Szangi.
With a roar, Bernard charges at the dragon, taking advantage of its grounding to get in a furious swing.
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Vibenia's carefully aimed bolt lands near her last, further proving the import of a skilled archer in dragon-hunting. Though the lesser projectile's effects are not quite as dramatic as those of the last hit, it nonetheless burrows deep as if thirsty for draconic blood, spraying the verdant ground with dark red. At the other side of Aeteperax, Dusk sinks her fangs into the tendon at the heel of the enemy's hind leg and tears, further adding to the crimson torrent.
Revitalised and driven forth by Nisany's burst of life-giving energies, Syksy calls upon the dragon's true name and raises Lady Tula's sword to cleave into the building-sized monstrosity in front of her—once again, the ancient hero's blade tastes the blood of a would-be tyrant, cutting through iron-hard scales, flesh, and bone like they were nothing but loam, vines and twigs loosely strung together into the shape of a reptilian titan. For a moment, it looks as if the beast is going to fall on the armiger in a final fit of fury, but its once-prodigious strength soon wanes, and the dragon falls to its knees with a roar of fear and impotent rage.
As the beast crumples, thrashing around violently and gnashing its teeth, Bernard rushes in and sinks Sir Pelle's burning blade deep into his eye socket, like a smith quenching a piece of red-hot steel in a barrel of cold water. There is a cloud of acrid steam, one more bout of struggle, and the beast finally lies still. For a moment, Azmur waits in tense silence, ready to call on the storm if needed. However, as soon as the dragon twitches his last, the druid seems to forget it altogether, hurrying with weightless steps over the lake at the southern end of the cavern. He shouts hoarsely along the way: "Rima? RIMA?!"
There is a faint answer to his calls from somewhere in the dark, and soon the sounds of a tearful reunion.
Once everyone has caught their breaths after the mercifully short-lived confrontation, the group follows Azmur using the more roundabout route along the rocky shelf which runs around the cavern, finally reaching the relatively small, twenty-foot high nook at its southern edge. As you make it over the water, you find the Kells embracing each other at the far shore, forehead to forehead, whispering intently to each other. Rima is a pale, dark-haired woman of Kellid blood, presently clad in filthy rags and very, very pregnant. She still clutches a mithral dagger of elven design, plainly stolen from the dragon's hoard in a desperate bid for freedom.
And what a hoard it is! There is a large mound of furs, ranging from bears and wolves to more exotic animals such as lions and hyenas, and even magical beasts, like the well-preserved skin of a chimera . It looks as if Rima has used them for a bed. There is a series of lockers filled with hundreds of rare books , some having been recently looted from the monastery, and more from the far reaches of Golarion—most of them deal with the darker side of astronomy and various occult topics, bearing names like Codex of the Ebon Depths, Grimoire of Impossible Secrets, Kargeth's Blackest Encyclopædia, and so on.
Five smaller chests hold the bulk of Aeteperax's more valuable treasures, including mounds of coins minted in a dozen different kingdoms, both past and present . There is a small silver cauldron with carvings of wolverines on the side , a gold scarab engraved with the symbol of Nethys , a silver hand mirror with a darkwood frame , a silver bowl with six tiny jade statuettes of panthers inside , a platinum holy symbol of Abadar , a masterfully crafted darkwood flute , a painting of Queen Abrogail II on black velvet , a pouch of a dozen flawed garnets , and a six-pound lump of raw voidglass .
Amongst these wondrous objets d'art and other valuables you find trinkets of a truly magical provenance, ranging from simple elixirs and scrolls to arms, armour and other accoutrements: there a suit of catoblepas-skin cuir bouilli , a small bronze shield of ancient Taldan make , a Desnan holy weapon with Varisian inscriptions , a jewel-studded duelist's foil , a one-handed crossbow with burnished brass fittings , a gilded sceptre-like mace , a handful of black iron crossbow bolts with blood-red fletching , wands of willow-wood and notched tin , a simple wooden ring carved with entwined weasels , a broad girdle with an iron buckle depicting a battle between a lion and a bison , a cloak of pearlescent silk , a pair of leather sandals with feathery designs , and a tiara of silver arrayed with gemstones in all the colours of the rainbow .
Syksy keeps her breaths controlled and light as she watches the Dragon twitch its last, before finally, moments after it has gone still, she blinks and looks around. ”We… we did it. We killed a dragon. We killed a dragon. WE KILLED A MOTHERF!!#ING DRAGON.”
With a cry Bernard wrenches his burning blade free and staggers back, to watch, wide-eyed, as the fell beast crashes to the ground.
He can't believe it. The dragon had seemed larger than life, an impossible doom that they could never actually avoid, but now it lay full length before them, slashed and bloody, slain and still.
"Can it be? Is it... is it dead?" His words are little more than a croak, but then Syksy lets out her cry and he turns to grin shakily at her, raising his burning blade high overhead, arm clearly shaking.
Only to half-sit, half-collapse to the ground as the strength goes out of his legs, and stare at the monster, taking in its fearful symmetry and lethal elegance, the smooth way its scales cover its powerful frame, the massive jaws, the draping leather of the now relaxed wings.
"Impossible," he whispers, and then realizes he's grinning like a fool. Letting go of the blade, he lies back, hands resting on his chest, and stares up at the distant sky, watching the clouds sail past, eyes wide, expression blank, heart thudding powerfully in his chest.
Against all the odds, he's still alive. And it's only then that he realizes how convinced of his own death he'd become. But somehow... somehow he's still alive, and so is everyone else.
"Praise Abadar," he whispers in an upwell of faith and gratitude, tears coming to his eyes. "Praise Abadar in all his glorious munificence!"
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Vibenia watches with bated breath, a surge of satisfaction filling her as Dusk tears into the beast, on the heels of her shot, rising to an involuntary cheer as Syksy gives twice as good as she gets, only to look on in amazement as everything seems to slow, Bernard's burning blade rising and falling with utter finality.
"Yes!!" she shouts, laughing in relief and amazement as she runs toward the others "Yes we did!!" she says beaming, as Dusk comes bounding over, barrelling into her triumphantly.
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Pushing off the wall and running towards Syksy. Flinching at the roar and feeling her heart twist when the dragon sways, But her Hellknight couldn't kill a dragon and get taken out by the corpse. There is no violent poetry in that.
Whipping her head around at the clank of metal from Bergnard's armor. Swallowing heavily and feeling that she failed but he is talking. Smiling as Duck barrels into Vibenia. And honestly that seems like a good idea.
Trusting the Huntress to catch up Nisnay finishes her run towards Syksy. Heedless of the armor she jumps on the dragon slayer and hugs her tight.
Syksy bursts into delighted cackles as Nisany plows into the Lancer with a hug, obviously not used to knocking people down with her new height. ”We did it Nis. We did it Vibe!” she gets out before giving Nisany a kiss.
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When you return Belhaim in triumph, you find a population prepared for the worst—it turns out the dragon's roars had been heard for miles around the monastery, and with nothing else to guess on, the outcome of the final confrontation had been entirely unclear. Once they realise you are victorious, the townsfolk shower each of you with adulation, and the beleaguered village soon takes on the air of a festival. For as long as you stay, be it days or years, there is nary a night in Belhaim that someone does not attempt to invite their saviours for dinner in their homes or lavish them with modest, home-made gifts.
Lady Origena bestows her rewards upon you as well, though anything monetary she might offer pales in comparison to the treasures you have already recovered. More uniquely, she also offers knighthood to anyone who desires it, elevating them into the lowest rung of Taldan aristocracy with the title of Dame or Sir, as well as a plot of arable land to call their own. With your newfound wealth, this would be more than enough to elevate you to the ranks of true gentry. Of course, this honour comes at the price of swearing loyalty to the soon-to-be baron, Arnholde, as well as a pledge to remain in Verduran Fork region to aid in its defence as needed.
Rima soon gives birth to healthy twins, who she and Azmur insist on naming after Bernard and Vibenia, the most local of the local heroes. The druid continues to struggle with his guilt over the coming years, but his wife and their children give him a reason to carry on. The adherents of the Green Faith are especially grateful for the safe return of their spiritual leader, who soon has his hands full with the usual blessing of crops, the healing of sickened livestock and, other assorted duties.
With Marcus Chance safely in custody, Baccus takes over as the sole blacksmith in Belhaim, his reputation further bolstered by his role as the personal armourer of the Patchwork Knight. Though Chance had recently come under the influence of a possessing demon, a full investigation reveals that his unlawful actions in undermining his competitor's business were done under no such compulsion. He is soon tried and delivered to Swift Prison in Cassomir to serve out his sentence. Baccus, in the meanwhile, "adopts" his remaining apprentices, giving them a real chance at bettering themselves.
Soon after the dragon's death, the Mason's Guild (as consulted by Khardir) moves forward with their plan to unflood the quarry. Working closely with the expert delvers of the Bloodvow tribe, the project is completed far ahead of the original schedule. Chief Nighttail and her people become a common sight in town, and though such a drastic change is not without its tensions, the kobolds' role in the renewed prosperity of Belhaim is enough to smooth over the worst misunderstandings.
With all of the different faiths working in unison, the re-opening of the quarry is done in such a way that it does not affect the beauty and delicate balance of the forest. Indeed, the New Quarry becomes a symbol of Belhaim's newfound unity. As the young Arnholde of House Devy comes of age and assumes the full privileges and responsibilities of the Baron of the Verduran Fork, his seat is more stable and wealthy than it has been for generations. Of course, with no living relatives other than his mother, his curse of premature senescence is still a factor, leaving the future of the baronial line in question...
Bassy is beyond excited to write the next chapter of Belhaim's history, now from a contemporary perspective. The Dragon's Demand proves to be her magnum opus, published in smaller volumes over a period of years—the series proves to be especially popular in Cassomir and Oppara, spreading word of your deeds far and wide. The gnome regularly approaches each of you for additional details, as well as your continued consent for including you in her dramatisation of the events.
"Not that Ol' Bassy has to spruce things up overmuch, eh?" she laughs.
The life of a small-town sheriff is not always so bad. Of course, the shadowy demon that had been possessing Chance is still at large...
Though she does not say it outright, Hermacora makes it clear she is not dragging Syksy back against her will: if Syksy returns to the Order, there is no knowing if she will ever be re-deployed anywhere near Belhaim. However, regardless of the outcome of the mission, the slaying of a full-grown dragon is sure to impress the brass, meaning that Syksy has a good chance of undergoing the Test as soon as she returns—but only if she does return. If she decides to stay, there is no going back.
More than anyone else amongst the newly-minted dragonslayers, Vibenia—a true daughter of the Verduran—appears to have become something of a regional celebrity... should she choose to accept her role, of course.
Nodding at Lady Origena, "I will but I want a chance to rest for a few days. I need to adjust..."
Gesturing at herself, "The whole new body and all. But I will take that book and Zaijka's notes so I can at least start reading after some rest. If you don't mind. Me spending all my time here will catch attention." Plus I don't know what Syksy is gonna do and she matters more.
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Spending as much time as she can with her Huntress and Hellknight without pushing for a choice on where to go. Reading in quiet times. There are up and downsides to being bigger. Being able to reach is wonderful though unfamiliar.
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Feeling awkward about going to see Bassy but the older woman is so much more accepting that her kin in Andoran will be about no longer being a gnome. Happily spending her free time explaining everything that has happened. Relishing in the comfort and laughing at the embellishments.
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One part of what takes so long is having to gain fluency is Aklo. If anyone helping must speak that specific language it stands to reason that she needs to speak it too. Then the looking for a nearby ley line to hopefully aid in the ritual. Once she has all of these things figured out she heads over to Lady Origena’s manor to let her know that a new language must be mastered and that the more people who can help in the ritual that easier it will be. But they must also speak Aklo.
”Along with being fluent in another language anyone who helps me does not need to be able to use magic. Literally anyone can help. So if you are wanting this to be as discreet as possible then those who already know and can learn Aklo should try to aid me in this. Since I do not know if I will get a second shot at it.”’
Turning to look out the window, ”No matter what I’m gonna have to tell the others what you are needing from me cause it will be easier if I am at a ley line. Plus I would rather not wonder around alone in the forest until I find Ley Lines.”
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Assuming the any of the others are willing to wonder around the forest with her while she looks for Ley Lines, that is what occupies a few weeks of her time. Taking a guess that going toward the druids Isle of Arenway ends up paying off. The spell Detect Magic is her best option to find one even if its slow. But eventually the ground lights up. Its really pretty. Following the Ley Line to try to get as close to town as possible.
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Heading to Lady Origena’s after getting back. It is kinda nice to be able to look most people in the eye or even have them look up at her. ”Ley Line is a ways out of town and I would rather have Arnholde nearby just in case. So if he could maybe ride a horse or be in a cart then I should be able to return him after a few days. And hopefully he will be back to normal.”
Returning that night to collect the bust and Arnholde in a cart. Walking throughout the night and resting a few miles from town. Most of the next day is spent walking again so they can reach the Ley Line in the evening. Picking a small clearing. Setting Arnholde up in a tent and taking a short nap.
Casting Detect Magic again to make sure she will be sitting on the Ley Line. Grabbing the bust, the yangethe's blood and the voidglass blade. Setting everything in front of her and sitting. Wiggling her fingers into the grass and meditating for a few hours.
The magically granted glow had faded some time ago and the moonless night is dark. Eventually the glow starts to return. Crawling out of the ground and up her fingers. A pale glow moved up her arms and all over her body, in the same pattern the green used to mark her gnomish body.
Opening her eyes and looking down. Blinking away tears. I’m so different now.. Focus Nisany! Shaking her head and wiping her eyes. Looking up and seeing only stars. Opening the jar and dipping her fingers in the thick blood while beginning to chant in Alko, just like she memorized.
The Controversion of the Crawling Chaos has begun. Tracing symbols on the bust and the blade slowly as hours roll by. The longer she chants the more that feeling from the Window creeps back into her mind. Sticking her hands into the jar and feeling the old blood crawl up her skin, along the glowing patterns.
Feeling tired and nauseous but the sun is going to rise soon. Keeping her hand in the jar until all the blood has crawled all over the glowing marks. Just before the sun breaks the horizon and the sky begins to barely glow Nisany runs sticky blood covered fingers along the edge of the blade.
Lifting the voidglass blade high and plunging it down onto the bust as the sun begins to chase away the dark. The blade shatters and cracks spiral across the bust. Broken out of her trance by a shrill scream. Dropping the hilt and not seeing the bust crumble. Instead Nisany runs to Arnholde’s tent.
Throwing open the flap and to see the man covered in blood while writhing around on his gory bed roll. As quickly as his spasms began they ended leaving him gasping on the ground. Moving to help and smiling when the skin on Arnholde’s face doesn’t feel wrinkled with age.