Session 72: Conclusion of Dry Gulch Report

General Summary

There was a fire fight! Bullets, arrows, magic and blades were striking across the battle field. Ismaril rushed out of the church tower to confront Angelique, who would duck several blows before the rapier would sink home. Stepping back another volley of bullets from her Adamantine pistol. Adalon had gotten Thirhe back on his feet, rushing to close with the Kholo Huntsmen. However the Kholo seemed eager to meet the drake in combat, howling its terrible battle cry it lunged at the bleeding drakes throat razor sharp teeth piercing scales. A'lar would send terrible magics at the shaman, her heart freezing in fear from the images that assailed her mind, followed by a blast of lighting from Adalon would drop the Shaman and put the Hunter on its back foot. Longwei and Indalell were hacking and smashing against the centurion construct ducking its whirling and terrible blades. Ayrien would move back in leaping thru the window putting several more arrows into Angelique who would stagger, wavering upon her feet she would level her pistol once more upon Ayrien and fire before collapsing into a pool of her own blood. Ismaril would scowl having had another killing blow slip away from her and move to help Longwei and Indalell with the the construct. The Kholo hunter would howl as the shamaness fell, tearing into the drake, Thirhe would collapse again in a heap as Adalon swiftly rolled from the saddle. An exchange of blows would find the Kholo slain, Ayriens arrow flying over Adalons shoulder, quiet once more returning to the abandoned streets of Dry Gulch.  

Tending to their wounds the Scales would take stock. Ayrien would squint at Angeliques back noting some strange tattoos, A'lar would take his sheers and cut the back of her shirt open laying her lifeless form face down. A text, of some celestial nature was scrolled across her back, a mix between scars and tattoos. As the magically inclined attempted to identify her weapon, Ismarils eyes would go black as her mind probed the powers of the pistol, finding some demonic influence whispering to her to claim the gun. "Don't touch it.....that pistol is Pact bound and cursed.....the script on her back is the name of every soul claimed by her pistol...." A disquieted look as the scales again regarded her back filled with names written in some infernal language. Collecting what loot their was and disposing of the bodies, the Scales would make their way back to Darion. They would be congratulated and give what is necessary to collect the bounty back within Drakesmouth. Darion would true to his word offer the location of the lair and ask for A'lar to conduct a ritual to collapse and seal the lair. A'lar would study the ritual finding it will within their ability and took the other supplies necessary.  

The Scales would spend 3 or 4 days resting back in Drakesmouth before heading out into the desert to the east. It would take a week or so of careful travel to reach the location of the lair, taking special care to avoid the patrols of the hostile Ecclesiarchy in the area. Finding the lair was not all the difficult but the way in proved slightly more troublesom. Eventually the subtle puzzle involving a dragon statue with an outstretched hand would be solved and the scales would enter the Dragon Lords Lair. Darions badge gave them access to the various magical constructs and servants within, and before long the Scales would find the hoard. The scepter would be easily found, and after some deliberation around other looting, the scales would decide it best to leave sleeping dragon treasure lay and set back to the portal to start the ritual. Taking about an hour to properly place and align the magical power crystals offered, Ismaril and Adalon would provide the support necessary for A'lar to complete the ritual. As it finished the crystal would shatter as magical energies surged thru the lair. A'lar would have a sinking feeling in his heart as suddenly all at once in the scales minds there would be a terrible, rending, scream of a dragon, as the image of the Dragon lord would writhe, its heart shattered by the magic of the ritual. The room would begin to shake as the magic bound to the hoard began to destablize, the scales hurried thru the portal only to have a back lash of magic energy course thru just behind them. "What just happened!?" Ayrien and Ismaril would exclaim as they were safely back in Amarantine. "not here," Al'ar would spit out with fury, walking at a brisk pace directly to the scales Headquarters. Inside the others would stare to him expectantly as he poured a drink, took a sip then threw the glass against the wall in a rage, Ayrien would jump slightly at the crash. "We just killed that dragon and the anti dragonists now have a working ritual that wont kill them when they cast it."  

The Scales would assemble an Emergency meeting of the Pax Draconis council, the ritual was bound to the hoard, they would encourage everyone to seperate their dragons for their hoards, rotate guards regularly, set up anti ritual magics and do what could be done to protect the slumbering dragons in their care. As the next weeks would pass, news would arrive from across Ioban. Nearly every dragon in the domains of the former Clan Vermillion and their client states would be dead. The Ecclesiarchy to whom they were at war would also suffer terribly as the dragons were slain. Among the Western Confederation a few reports would be made. To the north the Argentisarth Dominion would be hard hit, as well as the dragon clans in the south east. A few minor dragons would be slain among the Pax Draconis and the neighboring Clans that had aligned with the Holy Empire. In only a few days time the entire population of dragons upon Ioban was cut in half. Among this turmoil, Sildenaer would set out with the assembled armies of the Pax Draconis to drive the forces of Dark Grove from their embattled territories.