Scales Torn Asunder

[Slic3man 484]

     Sariants stood idly within the courtyard of Kreuzberg, seeming to be surrounding another. They had just rose out from the depths of their mighty fortress, a sermon passing. Beliae doe Tvoraue was heard among them, praising before their Hochmeister and Ordenmarschall. Soon enough they would look forth and begin to eye the weapons laden upon the table set up. Testing of the standardized weaponry was to happen today, though a more ominous shadow approached

 

 

     Just over the horizon a gluttonous roar could be heard, a beast cloaked in the same hue of the night soaring forth. Before long the Sariant could hear the winged behemoth slam into the side of Kreuzberg, seeking to regain its bearings. Sariants ran about the courtyard, some reloading crossbows while others latched to siege ballistas upon the wall. Nonetheless, the aberration had faltered its own fatigue and flames began to put down the snow aligning the walls. Its breath spread over the hardened stone, some Sariant catching flame.

 

     Bolts and javelins stuck into the Dragon's gut, its roars heard in nearby lands. Its wings were torn, sending it crashing down to the bridge. The passing cracked under pressure, but the Sariants pressed forth, slashing and hacking like ants to a hand. A tail swung side to side, slapping the armored foes away as it struggled for life. Turning over, the horned monstrosity lurched itself over the side of the bridge, dragging a few with him. They crashed along the snow with a smooth crash, spikes at the wall's edges stabbing into the dragon, while others continued to stab inwards.

 

 

      Blood stained the snow, and the Sariants alike. Scales lay unfurled along the many areas they fought within, glistening with the snow. Its body went like it came, seeming to dissipate into blackened smog. The tainted cloud would seem to fly into the air, and twist. Form untamed, it began to shoot off toward the North, no longer in their collected area. The only thing that now lay in the snow are a few bones, broken, and unbroken. Its blood left in the snow, as well as its skull. For now a crane held up its skull, hung as both a trophy and remembrance. Sariants soon turned back to their fortress, flames being doused and ale being downed.

 

 

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[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.