Death from Above
The Sky-Curtain Mountains, Khazad Duin.
The village of Dalornik, primarily a dwarven settlement, nestled in between peaks of the famed central mountain range of Khazad Duin, is what can be politely referred to as a shepherding community. The people live and die (and dye) by the herds of sheep that are tended to there. Meat and wool are the primary exports of the village, with generations of spinners and fiber crafters that go back for many, many years.
Which means it's a problem when something's attacking herds of sheep.
"Poor Lonmomi," Yalmean, a woman with a pleasant voice in the upper register, laments. The dwarven woman is wearing the mourning garments typical of the village when the group goes to assemble in her home, even though Lonmomi, the man in question--Yalmean's husband--has been dead and buried for a few days now. "We still aren't rightly sure what got him and the sheep. I'm just grateful that mi'sister is letting me have some of her flock's creatures to make up for the ones we lost. All I got to see were the prints in the ground. *Big*, big things, they were."
Ah. Home. How many years has it been since Slixvah has been in the Sky-Curtains, six? Seven? Too many. The high altitude and crisp air has her at a constant chipper attitude, often caught gazing off at the mountain ranges and their peaks.
The rust red and white egarlin shakes her head, returning to the now as she listens to Yalmean. "M'condolences, hon," she intones, bowing her head. "These prints, they's still be 'round here? Or did th' weather sop it all away?"
The die is cast, so they say.
It had been something of a hair-raising journey for Dolan to get out here with the others, and up this far in the middle of the mountains in late fall is not his idea of a good time. Still, there is a yarn to be he(a)rd here, and the Sunlord's firm reminder to him a week or two past has stuck firmly with the Corona. So, he's borne up despite the weather up this way, and now stands with the others, listening to the woman as she spins her tale, arms crossed, his flesh-and-blood eye blinking. "Is the print still there, mistress? If we can get a good look at it, might could be we'll have a good idea if what we're up against?"
Auranar hadn't expected to enter into the residence of someone who'd lost a family member to the creature detailed out by the guild. This is made perfectly clear by the bright pink winter dress and matching leggings that she's wearing. The sorceress looks a long way from mournful. Still, she has a stoic expression on her features, her bow strung across her back and keeps her peace as her companions offer up their query about the monster's prints. Though she keeps a wary eye out of her own for anything unusual.
Rhar herd that people needed help. Losing sheep without a peep is bad. That's more than enough to get Rhar's attention, and assistance. Losing husbands is even worse!
As for Gurr, he's just along for (as) the ride. He doesn't mind the exercise and travel... and climbing... and altitude... Ok, maybe the big old wolf is just too polite to complain much. To anyone other than Rhar. Who stands up as she listens, toes curled in fur for stability. "Know where, we find what! Stop the what!"
Getting out to see the sky curtain mountains sounded like an interesting excursion to Eztli, so the small makari decided to sign up and shove off. Having a few familiar faces along made the journey more agreeable, as well.
The small makari comes to a stop with the others, bowing their head to the mourner once. "I'm sorry to hear that, Madam, it's always difficult when friends or family pass suddenly." Eztli offers. "I hope that we'll be able to at least bring some closure to you here, and stop this from happening to anyone else, or any more of your livestock. If those prints are still around, that would be a good place to start."
"I well-wish I could show't to you," Yalmean says, "but it'd have been buried by the snowfall since then. Today's the nicest day it's been since then. Probably because of the fact I've got adventurers at mi'doorstep to help. And the bonny faces they have, and the cheery clothes they wear." Auranar's dress gets a little smile from the mourner woman.
She does, however, amble away for a moment, returning with a sheet of parchment paper and a charcoal pencil. Where she draws a rather... crude sketch that amounts to what looks almost like a hand, but much spikier and angular.
"I apologize for mi'art--I'm a dyer, not a picture-drabbler--but it sort of looked like this." Yalmean shows it to the group. "But they were big. Big, big things. About the size of my sheep in some tracks and bigger than that on others. We think there'd been more than one."
GAME: Slixvah rolls knowledge/arcana: (16)+17: 33 GAME: Dolan rolls knowledge/arcana+4: (12)+12+4: 28 GAME: Auranar rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (14)+14: 28
Dolan turns his entire heads towards Auranar, offering the woman a cheeky grin for the bright and cheery clothing. In truth, he hadn't given it any thought, as the choice was quite typical of the woman. The acknowledgement is brief, though, when Yalmean turns to drawing. He watches intently as she draws, and sucks in a breath once she is done, looking up at the others. "I'm thinking a dragon," he breathes, his stomach suddenly sinking into the earth and stone of the cabin floor. "It's got claws, that's for sure, and you'd see white dragons this high. Let's hope it ain't more'n a baby."
Slix casts a gaze about the group, squinting in a smile everyone and giggling at Rhar's words. "Oh ya too kind, Miss Yalmean," Slix coos. But she peers at the drawing as it gets stenciled out. "Oh that's okay, dearie, I'm sure whatever it is ya art is good 'nuff!"
She leans over. Squints. "Oh. Tha's a large bir... no." Squint harder.
Her eyes grow wide as saucers. ".. o-oh... my. T-There's no way its-"
A glance to Dolan's confirmation of her worries. She gulps.
"That's alright, we appreciate your help with this." The small makari smiles in that slightly unsettling way a makari might, even if the intent was there. "It is a nice day, and I hope there'll be more to come once we're done here."
The sorceress hums to herself, and blinks a few times. "If you remember where it was, I might be able to melt the snow to get a better look at everything?" Eztli suggests, glancing to the others, and looking a bit surprised. "A, dragon? I, right, we can deal with this, probably. If it is a dragon, maybe we can reason with it and get it to leave this place alone?"
Auranar smiles broadly at the woman for her complement, happy to bring a bit of cheer - even if it'd been wholly unintentional. Dolan gets a bit of a smile too for his cheeky grin, Auranar rolling her eyes a little and then peering at the paper herself. Dolan's words are precisely true. "I've seen similar drawings - not to scale of course - in texts. Considering our elevation your deduction is accurate Dolan."
She's starting to sound like Verna. She shakes her head and takes a moment to think about the relative size of the dragon in question. "We'd be more lucky if it's a juvenile. If it's a child the parent may still be staying near it." Which would be... bad. "At least we know what we're looking for."
Rhar stares at the drawing. She tilts her head as she does so, for views from all angles. She nods. "Is paw." This is the extent of her identification. She then looks to Dolan. "Dragon hunt sheep? Maybe is dragon." Now she nods to Aurana. Twice. "Tell it hunt new place, find own sheep!"
Yalmean goes about as pale as the gentle dusting of snow outside and on her roof. "A... Oh shoots and roots." Her swears are even polite and rustic. "A dr..."
She shakes her head. "They come 'round every now and then, every few generations, so I suppose we were due, but... Did it have to be my husband?" She looks like she might start mourning all over again. "Did it have to be my darling?"
She shakes her head and looks to the people. "Th'way we've always done it 'round here is to go high in the mountains with a sheep or two to lure 'em out with our best warriors we can find. We're sheepfolk, not fighters. So... you'll have to be our warriors."
Yalmean starts scribbling a map together. "Here, I'll draw you the way up to the highest peak. The paths are easy-marked so even the littlest shepherd can find their way. You can take the biggest two of my sheep... And I'll not mind if they don't come back. I just want what got my darling... gone." Her eyes are sad again.
"You sound like Verna, Aura." Some of the cheek remains in Dolan's grin, but it's a short-lived thing as the chill reality sinks into his bones. He lets out a short, hard breath, biting his tongue on what he'd like to say and probably shouldn't in front of the newly widowed housewife. "Yeah. S'pose that's going to be our best bet. Rhar, do you have a means to fly?" He turns his entire head towards Yalmean. "You've got my condolences. We'll do the best we can."
Slix softly sighs, putting her face into a hand. "I wish, Ez. I don' thin' we can talk our way outta dis one unless we do somethin' real slick. Sides... me thinks justice is in order."
The egalrin subtly hops from foot to foot. Nervous tick. A dragon?
"Y-Yeah, tha' sounds like a good plan, Yalmean, we can be the warriors fo' ya." Gulp. "Um, Rhar, right? I can make ya fly if ya gotta. Or ya big woflie." A glance to Auranar. "...I sure hope its small."
"Will go to top, make it go away!" Rhar assures the poor woman. The wolfling is excited and eager to help, but can also understand her pain. She then turns to Dolan and nods. Three-no make that four times. "Yes! Gurr fly! Short time. Get tired easy." From outside (as Gurr is too polite to climb into someone's home, especially through a door that may be too small) there comes a mildly annoyed snort. He may be old, but his ears work just fine. And for more than just steering rudders!
Auaranar nods to Slixvah, clearly agreeing in the hopes that the dragon is a smaller creature. She's not sure that they can manage one fully grown. Much less an ancient wyrm. The thought is enough to chill her bones and they're not even outside yet. Dolan gets a passing roll of her eyes and a playful jostle.
"We appreciate your assistance. And the use of your sheep in our endeavor." She touches the woman's hand softly. "We will try to slay the beast for you." It's the best she can offer.
"Well, if it comes to that, then, we need to deal with this no matter what." The small makari sighs, sounding much less certain as others seem to confirm the assumptions made. "We'll get this done, and if anyone needs to fly or something like that, then well, I'll do what I can to help."
"You fairly certain it's a white dragon? Like, got the scales like me?" She asks the others, tapping one side of their face. "I've got a spell that might help, but, I gotta make sure it's for freezing, not burning or acid if it comes back to it." She adds once they're out of earshot of the widow.
Yalmean helps the group out to her flock, where she presents her biggest two sheep. Their names are Thunder and Lightning. Yalmean explains that her husband liked to name every year's lambs after a certain theme, and Thunder and Lightning came from a year where they were all named after storms. She clearly seems reluctant to let you have them, but with a teary farewell, she walks back into her cottage.
What's left is the ascent up the mountain paths. It's easy at first. The sheep don't have any problems given that Dolan, an experienced farmhand, is here, and can cajole them into where he needs them to go.
But the further up it gets, the icier it becomes...
GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (20)+8: 28 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Slixvah rolls reflex: (10)+8: 18 GAME: Eztli rolls reflex: (11)+9: 20 GAME: Auranar rolls Reflex: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Rhar rolls reflex: (12)+14: 26 GAME: Rhar rolls companionreflex: (18)+12: 30
Indeed, Dolan had unhesitatingly buried his fingers in the wool of each of the animals and given them a good, firm scritching between the shoulders, his grin very much present but holding something of a sad edge to it. Despite the iciness on the way up to the top, he has no trouble getting the sheep to follow him, and when they hit an icy patch buried under snow, he merely stomps his way carefully through it, packing the snow and using it to make it less nastily slick for himself. "This is like getting to the barn after first snowfall for dawn chores," he mutters.
As they head up the mountainside, Slix makes a little motion in the air, like twirling a string around her finger as she brushes against Auranar.
The ice grows thicker, and the snow thicker. Crunch. Crunch.
There was a certain nostalgia in it despite the oncoming draconic malice they'd be having to deal with. Wait, shoot, we're going to deal with a dragon-?!
"SQUAWK!" Slix yelps, flapping backwards and tumbling down the climb a handful of yards. She comes to a sliding stop, an impression of her frame splayed out in the snow around her, like some kind of sudden snow angel. "... grow up in th' mountains all my life and.... gods this is embarrassing...." she grumbles.
Loose snow lands on her face. "... just let the dragon eat me."
She gets back up, hiding her face.
Auranar is glad that she at least wore practical boots and a practical (if still pink) coat as they make their way up the mountain. She's even more glad of this when Slixvah goes sliding down the mountain in a tumble of snow and embarrassment. "Are you okay?" She asks gently, pausing long enough for the other to make her way back up to them. Well, sneaking up on the dragon had never been a part of their plan thankfully…
The sheep aren't the only ones with nice warm coats or that get scritches. Rhar gives Gurr plently. Mostly around his ears. When she doesn't have hold of them to help steer. The two (by Gurr's choice) give the sheep some distance. He's not there to eat them, but they may not know that. The there's a squawk.
Rhar turns around and bounds to Gurrs flank to check on Slix. "Are hurt? Can ride Gurr with Rhar? Rhar protect!"
Eztli is able to relax again as they go, showing very few signs of being particularly bothered by the increasingly icy environment. She does have to stop and dig her feet in hard as an egalrin= suddenly slides down past them.
"I know, I know Slix, the desire to just stop everything and just roll around in the snow is hard to resist, right? Gods, I can't wait for winter hit Alexandria proper again." The small makari laughs as Slixvah gets back up. "But that's a good point. We should probably make any preparations now, before it gets even more treacherous."
Eztli snaps their fingers and their robes shimmer for a split second, and the small makari nods. "Might help with the cold too, but I'm not sure how long we'll be out here looking for them."
GAME: Eztli casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16
While no lasting damage happens to Slixvah as a result of her fall, she's surely tending to her bruised ego for the rest of the mountain climb up. The snow increases in fall. The cold gets more and more intense as the climb goes on. Whistling comes through the trees and the gathered formations of rock and stone that have been erected by shepherds past to lead up the mountain safely. Yalmean's map holds true, as crude as it is.
Finally, the group comes up the point. When they reach it, it looks like there's a stone formation up at the very edge of the cliff that overlooks the world below--somewhat like an altar, marked by what appears to be the hilt of a sword embedded into the stone.
The sheep look uncertain. As though they're aware of what their fate could be. It's only Dolan's direction that keeps them moving with the group. Off in the distance, the winds howl their mountain-song.
GAME: Slixvah used a Wand of Mage Armor. GAME: Slixvah casts Message. Caster Level: 9 DC: 15 GAME: Slixvah casts False Life. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Slixvah rolls 1d10+witch: (7)+9: 16
Slix waves off the concerns with embarrassed assurances. But /gladly/ takes up Rhar's offer to ride on Gurr. Gurr gets many, many pets.
Once they get to the rocky clearing, Slix dismounts carefully surveying the space. "Ceiwen, please don't lemme be chicken dinner," she chitters nervously to herself before donning a yule-colored scarf.
As well as several incantations that allow for speaking so high up on these winds, self fortification, and luck. Oh, no, wait, that's just another prayer. <Auran>
She shakes her hands off, gulping. "Alright... um.... so ya'll ready fo' thi'?" she inquires, pulling out a green hued potion from her robes.
Dolan himself looks less and less happy, and grows quieter and quieter as they make their way up the mountain, moving his upper body only to guide the sheep here and there along their path. "Aura," he growls and grits out, "kick my arse the next time I sign up for a Guild job in the mountains in winter." Warm winter clothing or not.
With an effort, he pulls a gloved hand out from under the cloaks he wears and invokes a few prayers himself.
When he is done, he looks around, and waits for the signal that everyone is done before guiding the sheep to the middle of the area, before the altar.
GAME: Dolan casts Freedom of Movement. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18 GAME: Dolan casts Coordinated Effort. Caster Level: 10 DC: 17 GAME: Auranar casts Bless. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Slixvah casts Heroism. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18
Gurr is comfy, and roomy. And he most definitely appreciates pets. Once they arrive at the top, he is looking about and sniffing at the air. Rhar helps out by stepping out onto his noggin to also sniff at the air and help peep around.
Her big round stick is cinched up on one arm and she ensures her sharp pointy stick is ready, too. Then. "Rhar ready!" Gurr whuffles. "Gurr ready!" Rhar looks to the others. "Need Rhar walk out sheep? To share?"
GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Eztli casts Resist Energy. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17
Auranar readies her bow from her back, pulling the weapon into her hands and testing the string. The wild elf frowns at the sheep, hoping - perhaps stupidly - that they can return Thunder and Lightning back to the woman who has lost so much. If nothing else... the sheep will hopefully lure the creature in so that they can at least get some sort of repayment for loss of the woman's husband. A brief prayer to Eluna is murmured as well, and she gives Dolan a grim grin. "Could be worst Dolan, I've heard that the breath of an ice dragon can break bone."
A pleasant thought indeed.
"Well, this spot looks, well, it looks a bit odd." Eztli admits as she reaches the top with everyone else. "Hey, keep your chin up Dolan, it'll be fine, at least, you don't gotta worry about the cold with me around!" The small sorceress chuckles, already weaving another spell. "Ward yourself against the cold." They hiss, patting Dolan on the shoulder after hopping to do so, followed by Slixvah, Auranar, Rhar, a boop on the nose for Gurr and finally herself, leaving the group with a pleasant feeling warmth. <Draconic> "So, all that taken care of, what's our next move?"
As the sheep and Dolan begin to approach the altar, there are not one, but two roars off in the distance, something that awakens the senses at the very perception of them. The snow picks up a bit more with those cries.
Then finally they appear. Two white dragons. Smaller, matching the description of the smaller tracks that had appeared. Not babies, not little wyrmlings, but young enough to be trouble.
Young enough to kill.
GAME: Dolan casts Divine Power. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18
Rhar points. With both paws, in two slightly different directions. "See them! Be ware! Small! Pups?" She isn't sure how small is small or big is big when it comes to dragons. "Talk? Scare? Fight?"
GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (8)+8: 16 GAME: Rhar rolls reflex: (17)+14: 31 GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (20)+8: 28 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Rhar rolls companionreflex: (6)+12: 18 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+4: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21 GAME: Riptide rolls 6d4: (13): 13
"Thanks, Aura." From Dolan's tone, he's not even remotely pleased. Eztli's offering, though, comes in a bit better, and he turns his head fully towards her, grinning over and down at her. "That's better, I owe you one." Indeed, he seems to relax some, and guides the sheep out towards the middle of the clearing.
Cries and wing-beats tell him when the time as come, and he invokes a second prayer, and when they come into view, he doesn't need Rhar's warning to be on guard, and reaches for the stylized dragon around his neck again. "Sunlord, Maugrim's get threaten that which we hold dear. Send me Your light, to be my sword!" A flash of sunlight seems to envelop him, in that moment.
One of the young white dragons surges forward on powerful wingbeats. Its maw opens wide and it delivers a cone of freezing cold breath that threatens to buffet Dolan, Rhar, Gurr, and the sheep. One of the sheep bleats its last breath as it slips and falls, chilled as it breaks under the dragon's breath.
All others withstand.
GAME: Eztli casts Haste. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Auranar rolls 1d20+8+1+1+1+1+1+1+2: (6)+8+1+1+1+1+1+1+2: 22 GAME: Auranar rolls 1d20+8+1+1+1+1+1+1+2: (14)+8+1+1+1+1+1+1+2: 30 GAME: Auranar rolls 1d8+1+1+1+1: (3)+1+1+1+1: 7 GAME: Auranar rolls 1d8+1+1+1+1: (1)+1+1+1+1: 5
"That's, ah, gods damn it, I really don't want to be doing this." The small makari notes, a strange mixture of grumbling and genuine sadness in their tone. Eztli is considering what further preparations they could make, when they're suddenly buffeted around by the unnatural frost blasting people nearby. "Shit, shit, they're here!" They shout, the sorceress darting into position behind the others.
"Hey, leave my friends alone, and leave that village alone! Everyone, get ready to fend them off!" They growl, weaving a spell that causes the group to burst into flames for a fraction of a second, leaving a further warm feeling in their allies, steeling them for what might be to come.
Auranar pulls the bow string tight to her cheek, remembering the lessons at grandfather's house. Breathe. The sheep falls and her lips thin into a line. Yet another life to be repaid to these dragons in kind. She looses two arrows in rapid succession, both finding purchase between dragon scale and she nods in grim satisfaction. "Someone get that other sheep moving!"
GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (2)+8: 10 GAME: Auranar rolls Reflex: (3)+8: 11 GAME: Rhar rolls reflex: (7)+14: 21 GAME: Rhar rolls companionreflex: (7)+12: 19 GAME: Riptide rolls 6d4: (14): 14 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18
The other young dragon surges forward with breath firing out from its mouth, going to catch Auranar, Rhar and her steed, Dolan, and the sheep this time. More ice piles onto the sheep-corpse, and while Eztli's magic makes it so that none of the combatants feel adverse effects...
The other sheep falls. But unlike its companion, it's less of a violent fall. Unconscious, not dead.
GAME: Slixvah casts Strong Wings. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16 GAME: Slixvah rolls fly+4: (12)+13+4: 29 GAME: Slixvah rolls alertness: aliased to perception+2: (15)+15+2: 32
Slixvah fumbles as she sees the dragons appear. They were small, but as they draw in, blasts of frosts coating her friends, only warded by Eztli's magic, Slix's gets to thinking. "... I don' wanna say thi' is too easy... but..." She squints off into the distance.
"Etl em ylf yaaw!" she chants, her wings furling out an extra yard each way as she shoots herself upwards towards the ridge, perching on the edge edge and squinting out into the snowy depths of the sky.
The egalrin gasps. "... guys..." everyone can hear the witch whisper to them. Then, yelled instead up atop the cliff. "GUYS! SOMETHIN' BIG'S COMIN'!"
She drops down into one of the side crags, pressing herself against the wall, panting.
GAME: Rhar rolls intimidate: (10)+17: 27
"No!" There's already one baa-cicle and nearly another, and there was no arrangement on having them go away if they got the sheep! Rhar stands up to her full height atop Gurr as Gurr moves forward. She also waves her stickes and arms wildly. "No sheeps! Promise go away first. THEN get sheeps! Bad dragonses!" The sheep came with for bargaining or bait, so Rhar may as well try the bargaining, too. The bait already worked?’
Eztli looks up and over to where Slixvah suddenly was, and the small makari freezes up. Already moving quicker, the small makari books it for one side of the mountain altar, sliding behind a small outcrop. Slixvah had much better eyesight than her, so if something was getting her feathers all ruffled, it was better to take the warning.
The young dragons retreat as a result of Rhar's words, scattering to be over by the stone formation altar.
What does peek up from the horizon is... an adult white dragon. Peering at the sheep meaningfully.
"AN OFFERING?" it booms.
GAME: Auranar rolls Diplomacy: (9)+5: 14 GAME: Auranar rolls Diplomacy: (10)+5: 15
Auranar points her bow and a nocked arrow at the much _larger_ dragon and narrows her eyes. "Take the sheep, and leave this place. Do _not_ return." Okay, so it's not the most diplomatic of statements, particularly not with her bow leveled at the creature, but she's not particularly happy about losing the sheep. Or the fact that giving them up is likely a stopgap measure at best.
There it is. The much, much larger, far more adult looking dragon makes their appearance, booming their interest. Slix curses quietly in her native tongue before whirling out, an ebb of black energy crackling at her fingertips. "Yeah! Leave and don't come back! You broke the trust of offerings of sheep by taking one of our own! I know you don't see us as any different, but damn well know not to step on an anthill!" <Draconic>
Good thing there was a Gurr in the way to hide her trembling knees.
"Offering!" Rhar nods. "Come to give, if you hunt not here anymore! Good to hunt for cubs, but not here!" She isn't the most eloquent, but she knows animals and people (and dragons) have to eat. And pups have to eat, too! Alot. She has a litter of triplets at home.
Gurr is also well aware (guess who the nanny is?), and decides to try and meet things halfway. He dips down to grab the deceased sheep-cicle under his belly and lifts it up in his jaws. He lumbers a few steps forward, sets it down, and backs to where he was.
Seeing that they were not immediately frozen to death, Eztli pokes her head out from behind where they were taking cover. They were feeling even smaller than usual, but the makari coughs and looks down over the altar. "We will not harm you or your young, but you can't hunt sheep or animals from the village down here, the others are right." They shout so they could actually be heard where they were standing. "If you're willing to listen, leave the village alone, and find places in the wilds to hunt." <Draconic>
Slixvah's words about the trust of offerings clearly strike the adult dragon. It eyes both of the younger dragons. "YOU WHAT?"
One of the younger dragons cowers. "MOTHER, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. I DID NOT MEAN TO--"
"YOU FOOL!" The adult white dragon bellows as she turns her maw and claws onto her own offspring. "I HAD. AN. ARRANGEMENT. WITH A SHEPHERD. NAMED LONMONI. OFFERINGS SO LONG AS WE DID NOT EAT THE PEOPLE. YOU ATE HIM?"
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO--"
The younger dragon's neck snaps in the older dragon's maw, and the mother dragon, her mouth now decorated in her own offspring's blood, tosses the younger dragon's body onto the snow before the group.
"A LIFE FOR A LIFE. TAKE IT. GIVE IT TO LONMONI'S MATE. AND HAVE MY WORD THAT I WILL NOT TROUBLE THE VILLAGE ANYMORE."
The younger dragon that remains looks at its fallen sibling for a very long moment, looking at the adventurers after, before the adult dragon gives a roar--something that sounds like a roar of rage. And maybe a bit of anguish for the tragedy that's happened here.
The cold wind blows.
Auranar blanches at the sight of the dead dragonling, and slowly puts her bow away. The roar of rage quickens her steps and she hurriedly motions toward her allies... Getting the dragon off the mountain is going to be a task and a half... particularly without the sheep. She eyes the one living sheep cautiously, and considering the notable distress of the mother-dragon. Figures that it's not going to notice one of the two sheep leaving with them.
That makes one dragon body, one unconscious sheep... and a partridge in a pear tree. She glances toward Slixvah and stifles the insane urge to laugh. Now is not the time.
Slix's is on a feather-trigger, the nasty spell half readied in her hands sapping away the heat and strength in her fingers. Her brows shoot up, looking between the young and the mother--
"Ceiwen's gale--! Holy--!!" the egalrin gasps as the dragon youngling slides to a stop before their group, and wincing from the roar. <Auran>
Getting the bile down after such a violent display (and totally not imagining herself in that snap), she flicks her hands free of the magic. "A life for a life. It would have been by our blade regardless," she says aloud, looking to the dead youngling. A sigh escapes her. Tragic, but the same end. Hopefully Lonmoni can find some rest with this development.
She catches Auranar's gaze. "... coo?" she trills quietly in nervous question.
Eztli blinks once, staring as the adult dragon swiftly dispatched one of their own children. The small makari is stuck in place for a long time, staring at what just happened. "No, there isn't a need for more to die here." Eztli finally manages to speak quietly, not wishing to jeopardize the uneasy truce further. "Let's, let's get going now, please."
Rhar's posturing and words vanish in the chill breeze as she goes quiet and still. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that. Though... the agreement was restruck? Even Gurr's tail droops and there's a brief, low whine as he looks from angry mother to young and back.
After a moment, he steps slowly up to grasp the tossed dragonling and backs with it in tow. Taking care not to step on the not-dead sheep. He is smart enough to know that getting both back down the mountain won't be simple... and who will be probably doing the carrying.
He just hopes the sheep doesn't wake up halfway through the trip. That would be ... awkward.
The group makes it off the mountain with one unconscious sheep and one dragon in tow, somehow, with much effort. Yalmean happily accepts that at least one of her sheep came back, as well as the corpse of the dragon. She's not sure how to process the news that the dragon they bring her is the one who killed her husband--but she's at least appreciative that the dragons will not bother her any more.
As the adventurers make their way home, they can hear the mournful howl as the snow picks up into a proper winter storm. Whether it is a winter wind of Khazad Duin or the mournful roar of a mother white dragon who has killed her own young--is hard to discern.
Winter is, at times, a cruel season.
-End