Tying ourselves to the Dragon proved to be a course of action holding wisdom none of us could have foretold, yet the Champion of Merciferus knew of the necessity. With neither stirrups nor leads, we were left with only our balance as the shearing winds battered us. The speeds at which the Dragon flew necessitated something more. With the city in sight, we found ourselves amazed by the speed of travel. Mere moments ago, we had been in Esfjord, but now we found ourselves at the frontlines of the attack.
As the Dragon circled the city, we found ourselves once more thrown to and fro, naught but the light chains keeping us from a fall into certain death. Though the links have become our lifeline, I cannot help but think that chaining oneself to a natural disaster is an act that even a fool would find disagreeable.
Our arrival was punctuated by the release of fires so ferocious, so scorching that we found ourselves struggling for breath even as we perched atop the Dragon. Though we were away from the fray, protected by the beast herself. The blistering heat left each of us with burns, none more than the chief as he stood atop the shoulder of the beast, gazing deeply into the writhing masses of the living dead.
We left Esfjord as a group of eight, the secondary group. Three healers and five combat mages, all charged with the mage surge as the Dragon was. Yet by the time of landing, two of the healers found themselves exhausted as they fought to undo the damage inflicted upon us.
In the wake of flame, the city's battlefield hosting several hundred upon hundreds of the risen dead was reduced to a valley of glass and soot. The efforts of the Guild members below shifted from fending off the dead to recovering those caught by the heat and restoring their health. I dread to think what it must have been like without the protection of the Dragon's body shielding us.
Though Karlon called for a retreat, empowering his voice with magic, it did not save all. The first battle cleansed by fire tore away the lives of our compatriots, may their souls find joy in the next world. I cannot say how many of our forces fell in the onslaught, but the flames were relentless, caring not for friend or foe. I pray most got away, and those struck by the Corruption found peace in the absolute inferno engulfing them. May their Gods embrace and bless them in the next world.
As the Dragon flew across the city, every cluster of risen she found would be purged. Though her flight appeared like a demon's chaos, the precision with which she found the hidden dead was frightening beyond anything I had witnessed. Their attempts at retaliation did no more than bring out a mocking laugh as their arrows impacted hardened scales, leaving no damage. Their spells woven for destroying the living were consumed by the fearsome aura of the magic she exuded.
Though she held the claim to most kills, we did not stand idly by. Through our travels in the sky, our vantage point offered numerous opportunities for barrages of magic to aid those halting the advance of the dead.
Whether hidden by stone or soil, the dead were weeded out. Even as we landed and dismounted, the Dragon did not stop. Though others may leave no stone unturned, the Dragon went further as she dug into the very earth, scorching the desecrated dead hidden beneath. In a matter of mere bells, a battle promising to decimate our Guild had been turned into a one-sided massacre favoring the living.
We stood our ground against the forces of evil as the Dragon dug into the ground, but without her protection, we were vulnerable. Alextri got caught by a spell of Corruption, his arm festering before our very eyes. As we came together, our hope was amputation, yet as the Dragon emerged from a smoldering hole, her gaze was fixed upon Alextri. Karlon called out for her to stop, yet the mage surge ran too deep. She did not listen, and Alextri was ushered into the next life. I am certain that he did not suffer.
Though I feel great resentment for the forces and friends lost, I cannot place blame upon the Dragon. Becoming affected by the mage surge was the choice of Merciferus of Health and Vitality. How can I condemn the deaths caused as a result of the Goddess's choices? The scope of this battle remained shrouded, and had I known what was to come, I do not believe I could have accepted joining, such was my cowardice.
With the death of Alextri, the Dragon wasted no time before leaving us behind to hunt more targets. Obstacles have no meaning as she charges through buildings, a singular goal in mind. Rubble and bodies left in her wake lie as a reminder of the terrifying power the Guild challenged. A fearsome roar sounds in the distance and, at Karlon's command, we rush to her aid.
As the Dragon comes into view, horror strikes once more. Before us, the bones and decay of another Dragon rise from the ground. A skull adorned with four horns, a stout body, and a smattering of azure scales. Any Guild member would be understood to retreat at this moment, yet our Dragon purred as she charged at the beast. Latching onto its throat, she tore at the remaining flesh while spewing those bright blue flames.
As the two beasts fought, the undead monstrosity slashed deep gouges into the belly of our Dragon, yet with each new slash, another healed, leaving naught but a memory of a wound. Even as blood flew, our Dragon did not relent. Try as it might, the monstrosity struggled to inflict wounds of any significance. The mage surge appeared to offer both protection and restoration as their battle raged.
In retaliation for its attempts to harm the Dragon, it received a harrowing punishment as it was flung around like a child's toy. Once it landed on its back, the battle was settled for good. At first, the Dragon attempted to break through the rib cage through sheer force using her claws. A display of power, though it was, driving the corpse into the ground, it did not crack the ribs.
Undeterred, the Dragon turned and swung her tail with such force that the impact was felt even as we stood a duel's distance away. The sound of the strike was as deafening as it was sickening. A mix of cracking bones and splattering rot. With no sign of hesitation, she dove in and feasted upon the flesh of the monster.
With her battle settled and her magic fading, the urge to rest overcame her. As she began to lie down, Karlon called out to her. At his call, whether the noise or her name, she turned to us, unleashing a deep, bone-shaking growl. We had fended off scores of the dead as she battled the monstrosity, and I thought I had felt fear, yet it was dwarfed by the draconian gaze's lack of recognition. We were strangers.
A second call sounded from Karlon, ordering us to duck as the Dragon turned. Hitting the cobble hard soon felt like a gift from the Gods themselves as the Dragon's tail flew overhead. The sweeping strike tore through the undead with which we struggled. Masses of flesh and bone flew through the air, smattering against ruins. With my attention caught by the profane sight, I focus wavered as the Dragon walked above, stepping over us as if we were no more than pebbles in the road.
We saw no more flames, but I found myself wishing that we did as the Dragon began feasting upon the desecrated dead. For the first time in my life, I saw the dead experience fear. As she chased them, consuming those in range, they ran, trying to escape the maw of their downfall. With our actions unbound by the menacing dead, we began our assistance in restricting the movements of those fleeing. I have often heard the rattling of bones, but never have I seen the rattled dead. As we cast our spells, we cut off their retreat, leaving few to escape as the Dragon bore down upon them.
Radiating malice and power, the Dragon continued to tear through the Corrupt forces, inspiring fear in foe and ally alike. Admittedly, the status of ally was at the time wishful thinking on my part. In her rampage, the city was left with few structures intact around the fields of battle, yet the city at large, as the annals of history will no doubt tell, stood without much damage.
After the fall of the monstrosity, Karlon, the buffoon, managed to fall and break his leg, which would later earn him decades of mockery. The earthen mage who tripped over a rock. With the threat diminished, our moods softened, though the guard remained held high. Exhausted and weary, the forces of the Guild present rejoined the battle, fighting the scattering of the dead.
With the end of her fight, the Dragon's mage surge came to an end and exhaustion took hold. Taking command, Tirya the Priestess called for the Dragon to stay awake, yelling for it to return to Esfjord alongside Cloudlon, as Karlon would become known. At her name being called, the Dragon turned to us with a gaze that made my sweat run cold. She looked like a predator who had lost a meal, and we were the replacements. Yet the growling subsided as it approached.
Karlon, using his staff as a crutch, managed to approach the Dragon and, before long, it knelt, allowing him to climb atop her shoulder. Yet she did not appear pleased by this, as she began growling instructions for him to climb atop her head. To position himself between her horns.
With a series of grimaces, Karlon managed to do as instructed, using the spikes along her spine for support. He must not have been fast enough, as the growling would intensify before he reached the position, but as he did, she spread her wings and took to the skies. We saw no more of her that day and would not be able to return to Esfjord ourselves for several days.
With the Dragon having departed, the absence of growling casts an eerie silence in the usually bustling city. With a commanding shout, Tirya called for us to ready ourselves for battle once more. The once-horde of undead still called us to battle, and with the influx of defenders, the city would soon be purged of evil.
Sorrows would come later as we would have a chance to mourn Alextri, but it was undeniable that this was an overwhelming victory. The death toll for the Guild ended up being no more than twenty, yet how many of them were caught in the Dragon's flames remains unknown. The matter would be marked restricted by Branch Leader Tae'liri, not to be discussed by those who witnessed the events of the siege. Once we were informed of this decision, I found wisdom in it, so as not to have fools seek vengeance.
Our efforts were not over, though. The cleanup of the city remained, and the defenders had not been idle. Encircling the city as best they could, they laid waste to the scampering undead shuffling through gates and broken walls. Karlon would have been better suited for the cleanup, as his earthen magics would do well to bury the rubble. My own fiery antics were less desired, as there were barely any corpses to incinerate.
With my affinity less than desirable, I took to becoming a source of magic for the healers. A few became affected by the mage surge, but a healer of dubious mindset will always be preferable to a Dragon afflicted by the same.
As I gazed up at the sky, the clouds remained parted, which was unusual for the season, and though it was early morning, the air was hot as a warm summer's day. Approaching the crystalline aftermath of the Dragon's flame made it obvious that it was the source. At the time, I thought it merely hadn't cooled yet, but as we later learned, those crystals burn hot enough to forge metal.
As we couldn't deal with the crystalline surfaces, we turned our focus back to the city at large. Several buildings had caught fire, and we needed to restrict the spread. As the healers worked to restore the health of the wounded, the rest of us turned our attention to the slow-spreading flames. We began tearing down buildings in the path of the fire and those touching the crystals. In a combined effort, we made short work of each battlefield.
The atmosphere was split between jubilation and simmering disdain. Murmurs of blame aimed at us for having brought a Dragon to burn down the city spread, but were met with the opposition of those knowing the city would have fallen without her help. Those condemning the Dragon were quick to be silenced as civilians joined the cleanup effort. Families returning home to a ruined house shared tears of sorrow for what was lost, but comforted each other as they could rebuild.
Those who could not work were quick to gather around the Dragonflame crystals, sharing warmth and caring for children. Before long, the gloomy atmosphere was replaced by the laughter and play of the children, improving the moods of those working, knowing what their efforts were going toward. Though grief hung heavy still.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Guards and Guild joined together with civilians, and the searching began. Groups were formed naturally, some taking up defensive measures while others spread throughout the city in search of the wounded or dead. As we know, both need to be found to be helped.
As expected in the face of a disaster, a lizard person would soon show up. The Necrophages of the Shae specialized in the profane arts of necromancy. Despised though they were, the aid was most welcome. With my eyes drawn to the scaled blasphemy, I noticed the skulls and bones worn as accessories bound to her waist. A dress as black as night covered her body, and the clank of a gnarled staff engraved with runes and symbols unfamiliar to me.
Here was a desecrator of the dead, coming to our aid in the wake of an undead assault. With the taste of bile fresh in our mouths, we greeted her and, with a bow, she began her dark work. Within moments, she had begun raising the dead within the ruins, setting them to work to find survivors. Most of us simply looked the other way, but a few took offense.
With every corpse found, her benefit grew as we needed fewer living people to search the ruins, and thus, fewer were risking their lives. I did not know at the time, but a corpse raised by a necrophage cannot be affected by the Corruption, adding to their benefit. And finally, it offered the families of the dead a final day of farewell before the deceased were ushered into the next world.
As the Guild revealed old secrets, we all came to know of Vile Steel, the Corruption, the nature of Necrophages, and the calamities of old. Learning that these affronts to the Gods themselves were servants of the Shae and she of the Abomination shook the faith many had in the Guild. Yet more still grew firmer in theirs.
The commoners know them as simple necromancers, but there is meaning in the true name. The Necrophages would consume the very corruption plaguing our lives, offering an end to what threatened to become our end.
The Guild's approach to many issues would shift over the coming years. Under Branch Leader Tae'liri's orders, our branch of the Guild would spearhead changes, such as peaceful approaches to beasts. Our focus became encouraging the beasts to leave rather than slaughtering them. As a result of her initiatives came the rise of the Beast Lords.
Guild members who specialize in pacifying and training beasts for work among the commoners. The farmers were among the first to truly embrace this change, but not without some initial reluctance. The first among them received a stipend to assist in their expenses, and with the might of a Horned Steelback babe at their disposal, the field work was done in a matter of days rather than weeks. After that, minds were quick to change, and it became common practice.
Our work in the city had yet to be completed, and as the Necrophage's efforts grew, more doubt was sown throughout the ranks of Guild members and defenders alike. Rumors spread of killing to grow her army, yet no evidence was put forth. She freely used her own supplies to aid those in need, earning her the favor of many.
Those opposed to her presence and those welcoming her would get into fights. Soon, those opposing her would find themselves receiving the ire of the people saved by her efforts. Emotions ran high as more and more were recovered from the rubble and debris. With families reunited, coated in blood and dust, joy spread, but with every corpse pulled from the ruins, the animosity grew among the select few opposing her.
No matter their stance, the Necrophage stood as the first offering assistance to those in need. As night approached and the booze flowed, the opposition grew emboldened and the harassment went from petty insults to assault. Objects were thrown and soon magic followed. Defensive barriers were erected around her, yet her response was to let out a soft laugh, as if the burning hatred were humorous.
As the night closed in, she sat to meditate. Taking this opportunity, a particularly strong defender of the city challenged her to a duel. I'm unsure what I expected, but as she asked if he was certain that he wished for a duel to his death, I felt pity. He did not understand what she had asked and laughed in her face as he drew his blade. Leaning her staff against a wall, she had one of the dead draw a circle around the two of them.
Calls for her to decline could be heard, yet she agreed as she rose with a smile, even as he demanded she not use her profane creations. His honor would be tarnished as he shouted profanities, mocking her imminent demise. Rather than engage with such foolishness, she asked the people standing watch to turn away, as they would likely not want to see what was about to transpire.
True to her word, many who chose to watch would end up regretting doing so. The duel began as he charged the Necrophage, slicing with his blade, cutting into her flesh, but the laughter never stopped. Even as her body fell, carved and ruined, the laughter could be heard. The fool defender declared himself victor before he crumbled, clutching his stomach and coughing blood.
Screams of agony unlike anything we had heard sounded through the area and through his chest, a clawed hand burst. Followed soon was a head, and moments later, a blood-soaked Necrophage stood naked above the fallen defender. Without a care in the world, she worked her magics and raised the defender to join her damned army, putting him to work finding more survivors. The matter had been settled, and the brutality of the Necrophages was thoroughly imprinted into the minds of everyone present.
As she requested water to wash herself, buckets were brought over as she offered the recommendation of not challenging a Necrophage to a duel to the death. Using the buckets and a sponge to clean herself, eyes of awe and fear were locked upon her form. And I admit that I could not look away from what I had seen either. As she felt sufficiently clean, she began rummaging through the pile of limbs that was what she used to be, collecting trinkets, potions, and fabric from her robe.
The robe, in utter bloodied tatters, would prove far more resilient than the man who had ruined it. With an infusion of magic, it reassembled itself, showing no sign of blood or damage. As she donned the robe, it shimmered as it fitted itself to her new body. Though she had offered the warning, she also emphasized that she would accept any duels offered to her, though the outcome would be the same.
With a fresh robe and a cleansed body, she stretched, letting her bones settle in with creaks and cracks before getting back to work. I had expected outrage or calls to action in response to what she had done, but aside from subdued fear, none spoke of it. And to my surprise, it did not stop people from approaching her with questions about her craft and potential favors she might grant. No matter who approached her, she always stood with a kind smile as she aided to the best of her ability.
By nightfall, she had searched the entirety of the city, even finding a few stragglers among the Corrupted. Returning to the main gathering, she offered the survivors a ritual of grief, as she called it. With her magics, she could call upon the souls of the deceased and offer a few bells to talk.
With a promise that no harm would come to those affected and that the Gods themselves would interfere if she defiled the souls, many took her up on the offer. The sight of families hugging corpses and giving final words will live on for eternity in my heart. The duel would become a matter of taboo among the citizens, leaving a cautionary saying. When death itself offers the opportunity to stand down, the dead man refuses.
As the spell ended, many would cry for her to recast it, demanding their loved ones be brought back, but she stood her ground, merely saying that to do so would be to bring about the Corruption. To hear a necromancer say that the dead were meant to stay dead felt impossible, yet it appeared to be a part of their creed.
Throughout the night, healers worked, empowered by supplemented magic from the mages present, myself included. Many needed tending, and few were capable of doing so. Even the necrophage joined in, proving herself just as proficient in saving lives as in taking them. By morning, many healers would be deep in the grip of magic exhaustion.
Though the Guild had lost no more than twenty, the citizens of the city were not so fortunate. We tried counting the dead, but as they shuffled and disappeared into the ruins, it became an impossible task. The citizens themselves appeared to have an idea of the number, but refused to share it, wanting to instead focus on a brighter tomorrow.
As the night took hold, fewer and fewer dead wandered among us, disappearing behind corners and in shadows. We would later learn that the Necrophage had assembled a pyre behind a hill outside the city and burned the dead as they were no longer necessary.
Some would ask her to help rebuild the city, to which she merely responded, "Creation is the domain of the living."
With the Guild offering a call to arms for merchants and civilians, the workforce would grow over the coming weeks, truly showing the indomitable spirit of the people. Rebuilding began well before anyone had time to ride from Esfjord and the surrounding towns. Villages were commissioned to gather lumber and supply tools to cut planks. It became a time of prosperity in the face of devastation.
Rubble and debris were gathered and sorted, some proved useful, but most were discarded, deemed too great a risk of being touched by the Corruption. Though we know now that the Corruption does not work like that, at the time, we shared the fears of the common folk.
Though the wealth of the Guild matched that of nations, we did not have coin on hand to pay every merchant and village for their efforts. Proving herself worthy of her position, Branch Leader Tae'liri spared no expense hiring assistance, diving into her personal coffers to pay for the restoration of the city. She would lament the decades of accumulated wealth spent, spending a day every week complaining about it while deep in drink.
As the days of rebuilding passed, wagons began arriving, and with them more much-needed supplies. Each and every dwarf arriving would end up gathering around the crystalline aftermath of the Dragon's flames. Any tasks they may have had were quick to be left by the wayside as the burly folk were drawn in to inspect the material of their own volition, as if guided by instinct.
It became a sort of game among the citizens to sound a bell when a dwarf arrived by the south gate and to see how long it would take them to discard their carts and draft animals. A few decided to drink whenever it was below a certain amount of time, but soon found themselves out of mind drunk.
Whenever a newcomer joined the gathering, they would share their ideas with the crew. Most had similar notions and were quick to be brought up to speed on the potential creations they could make.
Tirya remained in command, and she was quick to claim the crystalline materials in the name of the Guild, bringing an influx of insults and curses from the burly dwarves. It did not stop a handful of dwarves from bringing out chisels, hammers, and pickaxes to chip away at shards of the crystal. Proving her skill as a commander, untested though it may be, Tirya took control of the situation, offering to sell the mining rights to a small section of crystal to the highest bidder.
Before long, the dwarves had united, forming a coalition, and offered the godforsaken amount of five hundred gold coins. As she accepted, the dwarves cheered and got to work, forgetting all about payment. Chipping away at the material, some gathered shards while others were off to collect metal and forging supplies. Not paying any heed to ownership, they built a blacksmith's forge right in the middle of the once-battlefield.
The durability of their equipment fascinated me. These crystals burned hot, yet their thick leather gloves showed no effect as they grabbed chunks of crystal. The anvil they had appropriated was deemed to be of low quality, starting yet another quarrel among the dwarves. But they settled on it being serviceable as they began carving out indents on the underside of the top plate. The crystals would be embedded in the slots with settings holding them in place.
Not satisfied with merely having an anvil capable of burning the flesh off anyone who might touch it, they engraved runes to empower it into the thing. They had created a forge on which they only needed to leave the metal atop it to heat it up. And no material they worked with would become cool enough to be unworkable.
With the groundwork complete, it was time to truly test it. Getting to work, they hammered away, forging tools and weapons tenfold. Not satisfied with mere mastercrafted works, others collected the implements and carved runes to reinforce them. Curses could be heard over the song of the anvil as they complained about not having found a crucible. Judging by what words I could hear among the stream of profanity, they would have attempted to melt metal with dusted crystal in the core.
I found myself curious about what they could have made with the appropriate resources and, as many others at the time, I became drawn in by their volatile enthusiasm. It would later be Tirya's recommendation that the Guild fund the dwarves as they explored the possibilities.
With things settling down, and the need for the Guild's assistance dwindling, we would soon be heading back to Esfjord. It would be most welcoming to put this behind me, as I had had my fill of events beyond my comprehension. A sudden attack by the Corruption, a Dragon assisting us in their destruction, and a Necrophage bursting from the chest of an asshole.
Even though it had been no more than a week, each day felt as if we had been stationed in a fresh frontier town. No threats needed to show themselves when they loomed in every shadow, putting everyone on edge. By the Gods' blessing, we saw no more deaths after the duel.
This had begun as a suicide mission. The Champion of Merciferus had told us that we needed to be firm but welcoming, as a friend would with the Dragon. And to the best of his ability, Karlon had managed that. As she sought volunteers, she warned of the very real possibility of the Dragon herself killing us should we step out of line. It was never made clear where that line was, but as I would come to learn, it could not be drawn given the Dragon's personality.
I have given it much thought, but I still do not know why I accepted. Regardless of whether it was bravery, whimsy, or the heart of a fool guiding me, I do not regret it. It became the most important mission in which I ever participated. And the things I saw remain unforgettable, and I can only hope the same is true for Alextri in the next life.
Upon our return to Esfjord, we were welcomed as heroes, though it did not feel appropriate. Ours was not the main effort. We did not lay waste to swathes of Undead, and we did not defend the citizens before help arrived. We were simply the fools dumb enough to tie ourselves to a Dragon. Nevertheless, for a suicide mission, it had been a profound success. And bards sing of the city falling to the Undead, only to rise from the ashes, reborn as Dragon's Hope.
