A Master at Work
The
sky is dark from the flight of dragons; hundreds approach from the distance
likened to a swarm of locusts. In the
center of town, a five level structure pokes above everything else. Ozzob stands atop
this precipice and watches the flight heading into town. Silently the sorcerer closes his eyes and
raises a hand at the coming onslaught.
Softly,
Ozzob whispers, “The plane of fire,
Incineration. Go there now.”
A
sliver of sky cracks through the throng of dragons. The hostile creatures vanish from the
afternoon sky, forcefully relocated to the plane of fire. Ozzob continues to
repel the advance with the promise of blood boiled in the flames of
incineration; unfortunately, the message escapes a small percentage of the
conjured dragons.
The
golden shadow of one dragon spreads over Ozzob’s
head; the tip of the dwindled flock passes over the town. Some of the creatures land among the simple
structures of the village; a wooden house folds with no resistance under the
paw of one of these mystical creatures.
With the last of the airborne dragons gone, Ozzob
turns his attention to the melting pot of creatures that made it to the
village.
#
Stuck
in the middle of a divine battle the two master psions
stalk through the city streets avoiding the fallout. Dedrick waves Tolvis across the street to another vacated building;
flying just over the crest of the cityscape, a green-scaled dragon spots the
move and glides down. Stopping on the
street opposite Tolvis, the beast is unaware of the
other psion hiding in a doorway behind him.
Suddenly
a wall of flames burst from the ground, encircling the creature, the fires
streak high. Searing from the heat the
outmaneuvered dragon unfolds its wings for a vertical takeoff. Tolvis stands
motionless, surreal, above him a blade of energy forms. The creature squats in the confined space,
ready to jump. The energetic weapon of
the master psion streaks across at the dragon.
The
force of the blow stings into the creature’s muscled
flesh where a wing connects; the psionic strike was
so powerful that it cleanly cleaved off the beasts appendage. Fueled by the dismembering pain the dragon
whips around, lashing out, and coating the nearest buildings with a fresh layer
of sprayed blood. Focusing on a glint in
the corner of its eye, the creature catches sight of Dedrick--commanding
the entrapping flames.
Blocking
out the pain of searing flesh, the dragon reaches into the building and grabs Dedrick with a bare claw.
Without a commander, the limbs of fire that had so long been stroking
the creature were now gone. Focused
rage, fueled by the pain, filled the eyes of the great beast. The crushing claw closed around Dedrick’s body, squeezing tighter and tighter. Looking inward, self-absorbed, Dedrick’s body explodes with flames; scorching jet streams
streak from between the giant beasts finger-like claws.
Enduring
the stacked up pain, the creature focuses every ounce of effort into squashing
the life from this mortal; the beast’s attention has not been on the other psion-the one that clipped its wing. Tolvis builds
layers in his mind as a gigantic force blade comes into focus above the
beast. Dropping like a giant
head-chopper’s axe the strike hits the creature’s neck perfectly; the psionic forces split apart flesh, decapitating the fearsome
green dragon.
Dedrick watches as the hate-filled eyes roll back,
uncaring, released. Dust explodes from
the street under the impact of the eviscerated head. Slowly, the dragons crushing claw looses its
animation and places Dedrick softly on the
ground. The bleeding giant gradually
detracts and limpness in the street. Dedrick and Tolvis share a look,
each saying he was happy the other was around for the encounter.
#
Knowing
the attention that Ozzob will attract, everyone has abandoned
Baddlack’s
Ozzob watches the two huddled together under the dragons
spreading mass. The creature’s long neck
coils much the same as a snake, preparing to strike. The sorcerer reaches out at the dragon with
speed; he grabs the air and locks down a solid grip. With a swift flick of the wrist, Ozzob snatches the dragon from the ground; a smooth fling
follows, launched into the sky, the dragon quickly disappears in the distance.
Ozzob shares a connecting stare with his friends on the
street, but the respite is short lived when a second dragon swoops down to the
street just a bit away from Leone and Kis’larn. This new threat is fearsome, a dragon plated
in fiery red scales, ready to strike. As
the three friends calculate a victory, the creature releases a sluggish snort
that sends a fireball over the two lover’s heads. Sensing fear, the beast leans forward and
breathes out a massive wave of fire.
Sheered away be a magical wall of force the flames blast up into the
sky.
The
dragon’s breath ceases; fiery red eyes scan the
village’s horizon for a culprit. It takes
only moments for the blood colored creature to find one, the sorcerer Ozzob standing high atop a building in the middle of the
town. Standing in the street, the area
around the scaled beast instantly turns dark; the dragon looses its footing and
begins to fall. Looking up, the last
thing the fearsome dragon sees is a cube of earth dropping from the sky.
Ozzob watched from his precipice as the puzzle piece falls
back into its place; forever entombing the red-scaled dragon far beneath the
ground.
The
young sorcerer smiled, “Teleportation at its finest.”
#
One
final dragon, black and dripping with the stink of ancient tar, looks down on Dedrick and Tolvis. Trapped in the beasts sticky excretions, the
two psions are beginning to loose hope of a timely rescue. The black-scaled beast spreads out above the
two, ready to crush them in a single massive slam. From out of nowhere, Baddlack
comes running up to challenge the beast; Kis’larn
watches from safety at the edge of a building.
Instinctively
recoiling, the dragon looks temporarily confused by the ludicrous gesture. Baddlack pulls out
his falcata styled sword and barks at the beast, “Get
out of here.” Unimpressed, the black beast rockets down a fist of annihilation;
the dwarf is barely able to dive out of the way. Rolling with his weight, he stops in a slide
that brings the dwarf back to his feet.
A second swipe from the beast hits closer to the evasive miscreant.
Baddlack runs from the creature’s assault at full speed,
directly at the corner of a close by building.
With spring-loaded feet, the wily dwarf scrambles up the wall and grabs
the second floor ledge with his free hand.
His other arm rockets the blade through the air at the dragon; the
weapon is perfectly sharp, but this is a dragon and the falcata
simply clinks off one of the black scales.
The
oil-dipped monster takes a single swing at the dwarf and nearly rips out the
entire floor; Baddlack disappears into the spiraling
mass of rubble. Turning back to the two
trapped psions, the dragon finds that the situation
has changed; both of them stand in the middle of a circle of clean ground, they
managed to repel the black sludge. With
head-tilting perturbation, the dragon focuses on the wavers of energy that seem
to appear around Tolvis. The massive psionic
strike deals a mortal wound to the unsuspecting dragon, spilling black blood
and oily innards onto the street.
#
From
atop Baddlack’s inn, the town dose not looks so bad; half a dozen buildings shoulder moderate damage, but
nothing is in ruin. Ozzob
is not pleased; he caused this and you can see the pain behind his exterior, he
knows the scar is deeper than it appears.
Ozzob looks to the streets to find his friends
in the chaos.
The
sleek Kis’larn digs through a pile of rubble
searching for Baddlack. Guided by luck, she quickly finds the wounded
innkeeper contorted inside the mass; she gets to work on the delicate
extraction operation. Dedrick, Tolvis and many of the
village citizens step back out into the open.
By all accounts, the fight is over, with no casualties.
Ozzob looks back to the dissipating clouds; he steps to the
edge of the roof. His demeanor is
intensity. For the first time since they
have known him, Ozzob’s friends see his eyes glazed
over with lust, a desire for power.
Gazing up from the street, they can tell he has changed, lost in the
whirlwind. The sorcerer strikes a finger
and points to the sky.
“Is
that it?” Ozzob’s voice carries strength, finality on
the wind; the words become a growl, a challenge.
The
citizens of Woodwake knew this was a possibility;
living under the protection of the Eskeen family
always carried a burden. The people
instinctively know what is coming, and so they flee--scattered to the woods
like disconnected ants. Dedrick leads the charge to the roof, Leone and the others
follow to help; Dedrick knows that he must stop his
friend.
“I
want you back… I need you to come back.
I need this!”
The
riled sorcerer makes a passing notice of the people fleeing to the woods; he
glances down to the resting village with a final mourned face. A final hammer string carried the sorcerers
cracking voice to the heavens.
“You
will not rob me of this!”
A
voice clashed in the sky, shredded the sorcerer growl, the displaced god
received Ozzob’s challenge, and came back. In an instant, the clouds reformed and build
a solid substance in the air. A puerile,
dark substance dripped from the clouds; the gelatinous matter formed together on
the ground. The sky to the west turned
dark with this black rain.
Dedrick stops running at the sound of the god’s voice and
pulls up to a window a floor below Ozzob. In the distance, the group of circumstantial
companions can see the body of a god form.
A giant skull flows from the lumbering mass of black goop; the mask
turns red and hinges to incite terror.
There are few words to express how the friends feel as they look out the
window.
“Dear
god… it’s real.”
“I
though he was joking.”
“No,
that is Glash, just as he described him.”
#
Confrontation recited, “In moments like this, we can all see what is truly inside.”