CLOSED | the perfect stormrider.

[poleaxed]

WHO: Erik Stephens, Gabranth, Diana, Benedict, Edgard, Tiffany, Dick & Jone.
WHAT: The Gang Fights A Dragon.
WHEN: Cloudreach.
WHERE: The Thenuviet estate on the Exalted Planes.
NOTES: if something looks wonky or is misspelled, please know I’m typing this on mobile & have mercy.

GETTING THERE isn’t a short journey, and they’re hardly traveling in comfort. Most of the horses are carrying equipment, armor, weaponry, and anything else those volunteered for this expedition thought to include. And there’s camping equiptment. Anyone who said the travel overland involved staying at inns was lying. Inns are notoriously stuffed with murderers, anyway.

Every night, there’s a campfire and food. Sometimes it’s fresh caught, but if it is, Jone certainly didn’t catch it. Just as likely that it’s rations, salt pork and jerky and whatever dried fruits and nuts Riftwatch can spare.

There’s a STOP AT A BATHHOUSE in the town near the Thenuviet estate, however. It’s stupid, they’re just going to dirty themselves up later, but presentation is important to these people.

Surely all of you brought fancy dress and masks, because IT’S TIME TO SCHMOOZE. There’s a small party of Orlesians dressed to their finest, having a cozy little soirée on the edge of a cliff. Literally on the edge. Don’t indulge too much in the fine wines and cheeses, because there’s a dragon waiting, but for now? It’s never a bad idea to look good in front of rich people of influence. At least, not these days.

Eventually, it’s time to move forward, which means PREPARING FOR BATTLE. Climbing down the cliff is easy stuff, if you’re good with rope or have basic upper body strength. But now is probably the time to set up any traps, get in good positions... because it’s not long before the party on the cliff above begins to cheer.

...Because a few dead swine are unceremoniously kicked off the cliff to fall into the ravine now filled with you and yours.

The cheers from the cliff face only increase as loud thrashing, howling sounds start and become increasingly closer. How long have they been feeding the dragon like this?

But then it’s DRAGON KILLING TIME. You probably know how that goes. Stormriders are huge, dark scaled, and shoot thunder instead of fire. This one is angry you’ve interrupted lunch time.

AFTERWARD, it’s time to heal, take a breath, poke around the dragon bits for fancy heirlooms, and climb back up that cliff.

Comments

[fairforce]

Positioned mostly behind the dragon by now, Tiffany is as good as deaf to most of whatever human yelling and shrieking and falling goes on--but not deaf to the dragon's screeches, and certainly not immune to the drag of the one-winged vortex. She has the advantage of the weight of her armor, which makes her a kind of living anchor. But a dragon is a powerful beast (no shit, Tiff), and she finds herself pulled closer.

Which: good. Closer is where she wants to be. There's a massive tail between her and the rest of the dragon and the battle going on at its front. That tail was lashing only a moment ago, but it is largely still now, the dragon's focus all on its pain and its wing. As she's dragged on by, Tiffany summons her strength, says a prayer to Andraste--and strikes out with her sword, stabs in to the meat of the tail.

The tail is thick, the scales laid like reticulated plate armor. There's a necessary suppleness to it, important for movement. The dragon is roaring and shrieking, there's dirt and leaves and debris everywhere, and Tiffany digs in her heels, gets a stance--fighting against the wind, she pulls back and strikes again, down, before the tail can be pulled away, aiming between the plate of the scales. Her sword bites in, through. This pins the tail, at least for a moment. This gives her a point to hold on to. This--hopefully--makes the dragon rear back in pain and expose more throat and stomach to her cohorts.

All she has to do is hold on, try to withstand the worst of that inevitable whip of the tail--and then also not get clawed whenever the dragon inevitably tries to pick her off like a nit.

[clawings]

The dragon does rear up, and Erik, who thus far has been steadily dragged in towards the dragon by the pull of its one-winged vortex, tosses Gabranth's sword in the man's direction with pretty good aim, keeping the blade up and the hilt downward. The dragon roars, swiping in his direction again, and this time Erik manages to roll and dodge before coming back up with both of his swords in hand.

He ignores the claws in favor of slashing at the opposite, currently intact wing. The first sword rips through webbing and connective tissue, spraying blood in Erik's face and all around him; the second practically slices the wing in half.

It's impossible for Erik to know how much longer the dragon is going to survive this encounter, but based on it's screams and the abruptness that the wind is gone, he's pretty sure that it won't be causing anymore cyclones.