With a thunderous sound of glass breaking echoing through the air, the colossal dragon descended from the sky, its massive body crashing onto the ground with such force that shockwaves rippled outwards, sending clouds of dust and debris spiraling like a storm around it. The nearby buildings, once sturdy structures of civilization, crumbled under the dragon's immense weight, their walls shattering with a violent crack, while lives were extinguished as if they were mere candles flickering in a breeze.
“Such fragile creatures,” the dragon mused with a hint of amusement lacing its deep, rumbling voice. It surveyed the chaos with an almost childlike glee, raking its razor-sharp claws across the ground before it, leaving deep gouges in the earth and snuffing out yet more lives with disturbing ease. It flicked its mighty tail, and another building exploded in a cloud of bricks and dust, collapsing like a child's sandcastle washed away by the tide.
In that moment, the dragon's gaze caught sight of a figure lurking in the shadows of the ruined landscape. Not far off, barely concealed behind the rubble of a toppled structure, stood Bucrok, his body tense as he pressed against the wall.
“You,” the dragon sneered, a wicked smile curling its lips. “How are you still alive, I wonder?”
Bucrok, realizing he could no longer hide from such a menacing giant, straightened up and stepped into the open, adopting a battle stance that radiated a mix of bravery and dread. His muscles coiled as he focused intently on the dragon as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.
The dragon erupted into a fit of cackling laughter, its eyes scanning the remains of the building Bucrok had sheltered behind, teasingly taunting him. “I wonder what you are hiding over there,” it croaked ominously, tilting its massive head upward, its maul glowing with a fierce purple energy that made Bucrok’s heart race with fear.
“Get out from over there. Dodge!” Bucrok bellowed, adrenaline coursed through him, every nerve in his body alight with anticipation. The dragon’s mouth opened wide, and a blinding beam of purple light shot forth, engulfing everything in its path. In that instant, two figures sprang into action, darting from the collapsing ruins just in time. The wicked beam obliterated the building, swiftly followed by a chain reaction that annihilated the next fifty structures, sending tremors rattling through the ground and an ear-splitting explosion ringing in the air. Cries of terror and desperation from onlookers echoed around.
Among the fleeing figures was Nita, her face etched with panic, clinging tightly to her daughter’s small form as she sprinted. Beside her, Jaquawe held onto his wife securely in his arms, he shot upward into the sky. The dragon snorted disdainfully at Jaquawe’s escape attempt, and in an instant, the Alofrian found his ascent halted.
Sensing the shift in weight, Jaquawe’s eyes widened in alarm, and he began to flap his powerful wings with frantic urgency. He could only manage to move a few inches before an invisible force snagged him. It was the dragon’s gravity magic that sent him plummeting from the sky. He held onto his wife, bracing for the inevitable impact.
With a bone-jarring crash, they collided with the ground, the earth trembling beneath the force of their descent. Dust and debris rose in a cloud around them, while the dragon watched, its cruel laughter filling the air once more.
A sudden flurry of arrows soared through the air, their sharp tips glinting, momentarily capturing the attention of the gigantic dragon that loomed ominously near Bucrok and Jaquawe. The arrows rained down upon the formidable beast, bouncing off its thick, shimmering scales like raindrops hitting a mighty river, leaving only faint impressions behind. With a disdainful flick of its reptilian eyes, the dragon turned, fixing its gaze on the brave but small assemblage of soldiers gathered below—four distinct groups of warriors, each no more than a hundred strong.
The expressions on their faces were a kaleidoscope of emotions, a tapestry woven from the threads of fear and fury. Some soldiers were gripped by an icy terror, their knuckles white and strained as they clutched their bows so tightly that it seemed their fingers might draw blood. Others stood resolute, their eyes blazing with an intense hatred, ignited by the sight of their homes being laid to waste by the dragon’s relentless rampage. Buildings that had once bustled with life and laughter were now reduced to mere embers and crumbled stone, and the thought of what had been lost burned fiercely within them.
At the forefront of this desperate band stood a man clad in weathered grey and yellow armor, a symbol of hope amidst the chaos. His age was evident in the silver strands of his hair, yet there was a remarkable bravery etched into his features that suggested he had faced death countless times before, each encounter forging his resolve like tempered steel. His face, a canvas of determination, bore an expression of fierce defiance, lips pulled tight in an angry grimace as he prepared his troops for the monstrous threat that loomed before him. He appeared to be the squad leader or captain.
As the dragon snorted, a deep rumble reverberated through the air, it reared its massive head back, revealing a maw that glowed with a sinister purple light, crackling with malicious energy and foreshadowing the devastation that was about to unfold. “Mage’s front line, block!” the captain shouted, his voice slicing through the clamor of chaos. He thrust his sword forward in a powerful gesture, rallying his troops to action.
At his command, a surge of thirty mages surged forth, their robes billowing like storm clouds as they gathered at the front line, eyes shining bright with mystical resolve. They began to chant, their voices weaving together in a rhythmic synergy, creating an aura of power that pulsed in the air around them. The incantations melded into a seamless harmony, each spell stacking upon the last like shingles on a roof, forming an intricate tapestry of magic that shimmered against the fading light.
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Before long, their combined efforts culminated in a spectacular display as an immense shield materialized before them, stretching a hundred feet long and three feet thick. This shield, a magnificent barrier of arcane energy, flickered and glowed, pulsating with protection as they braced themselves against the inevitable onslaught of the dragon’s wrath. It stood firm and unyielding, a testament to their courage in the face of overwhelming odds—a fragile barrier against a force of nature that hungered for destruction. Hope flickered like a candle in the depths of an encroaching storm.
The bright beam shot forth with incredible intensity, slicing through the air like a flash of lightning, and crashed against the shimmering magic shield with a force that resembled a tsunami crashing relentlessly against a fragile little house. To everyone's astonishment, the shield did not shatter immediately upon impact. Instead, it stood resilient, deflecting the blow as though it were a seasoned warrior. The captain's face broke into a wide grin, a look of satisfaction blooming as he realized that his strategic planning was bearing fruit.
The shield was ingeniously crafted in an arrow formation, expertly designed to deflect the dragon's powerful breath attack rather than absorb it head-on.
"Clever little mortals," it remarked, dripping condescension with each syllable. Its sharp eyes glinted with surprise; it had expected the soldiers to be obliterated by its destructive assault, yet there they stood, resolute, defiant, and unharmed.
However, the devastation did not end there. As the vicious breath attack rebounded outward, it carved a swath of destruction through the city. Buildings and structures crumbled in both directions along the paths of the deflected force, their walls exploding in chaotic splinters. The destruction stretched beyond the confines of the city walls, dismantling everything in its wake with alarming ease, including the burning tree line.
Jaquawe struggled to rise, his arms feeling as heavy as lead weights strapped to his limbs. It was an uphill battle, primarily because his muscles were screaming in protest from the sheer exhaustion of carrying his beloved wife to safety. Yet, he was fueled by an undeniable instinct: he had no choice but to keep going. He could not allow himself to succumb to despair, not when so much was at stake.
The dragon took notice of this and soon ignored the constant arrow that bounced off its scales harmlessly.
“Do you really wish to fly that bad?” The voice of the dragon sneered, dripping with condescension while its massive wings flapped rhythmically, sending ripples of wind cascading around them.
Jaquawe glared defiantly at the beast. “Yeah, I want to fly—to get away from you! But it seems that’s not enough anymore.” Finally managing to summon the strength to stand on his own two feet.
The dragon turned its head, eyeing the surrounding city engulfed in flames. Smoke billowed upward in dark clouds, and the screams of panicked citizens filled the air. Most were cowering in corners or hiding places, trying to escape the horror that unfolded except—Bucrok who had a fierce expression, positioned protectively in front of his woman and child. Jaquawe’s heart filled with admiration for the orc’s bravery, even in the face of such terror. The dragon then turned to the soldiers who felt a wave of terror wash over them, their hearts pounding in their chests as they took in the catastrophic devastation that surrounded them, a stark reminder of the dragon’s overwhelming power. A flicker of despair at the sheer scale of destruction that loomed just a breath away.
The dragon twisted its head back to Jaquawe, its eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of joy. “No, I think that sounds like a splendid idea. You know what? Why don't we all fly?” The way it articulated those words sent a shiver down Jaquawe’s spine. What was this monstrous creature plotting? Before Jaquawe had a moment to unravel the meaning of the dragon’s taunt, the air around him shifted alarmingly. Suddenly, his burden felt lighter, a peculiar weightlessness overtook him, and before he could register what was happening, he realized he was no longer standing on solid ground—he was floating several inches above it.
Panic clawed at his chest as he glanced around, desperate to understand this strange turn of events. To his shock, he saw his sleeping wife suspended in mid-air, alongside Bucrok’s family, all of them levitating just as he was. Confusion darkened Jaquawe’s expression, and he shot a quick look back at the dragon, whose face was twisted into a grin of pure delight, the creature’s sinister laughter echoing around him like a sinister chorus.
“Let’s all take to the sky!” The dragon declared with unrestrained glee, flapping its immense wings once more. A powerful gust of wind erupted from its wings, lifting everyone higher and higher—not just Jaquawe and those from his immediate circle but seemingly the entire city. As they ascended, Jaquawe’s heart raced with a mix of awe and fear. He glanced up, and dread filled his chest as he spotted a colossal rift in the sky, its ominous colors swirling together in a chaotic dance of distress. His mind raced as he absorbed the nightmarish sight: people, animals—dogs, cats—were all floating toward the rift that promised nothing but calamity.
In horror, Jaquawe’s gaze fell downwards, his heart sinking as he recognized the dragon’s purposeful movements. It swooped around the floating chaos like a ruthless predator, plucking people from the crowds below and tossing them playfully towards the rift, all the while laughing maniacally. The ease with which it toyed with lives sent a tremor of panic through Jaquawe.
Suddenly, the dragon honed in on Bucrok, extending one clawed hand toward him. The stout orc swung his mighty hammer at the dragon in desperate retaliation, but just as the weapon whistled through the air, the dragon stopped in its tracks. A look of confusion washed over Bucrok’s face as he instinctively turned his attention back to the chaos. A terrible scream broke through the fray, and time seemed to slow as he realized Nita and his daughter were no longer ascending—they were plummeting! The ground below loomed closer with every second, their descent accelerating in horrific silence.
“No!” Bucrok roared, an anguished cry that reverberated in the air, his face a mask of fury and desperation. The dragon hovered in front of him, its eyes narrowed with delight as it reveled in the orc's turmoil. “Beg for me to save them,” it taunted.
“What?” Bucrok stammered, grappling with anger and confusion. “No... I…”
“You heard me, mortal,” the dragon chirped, its voice dripping with mockery. “Beg for me to save them.” Bucrok’s mind raced, the screams of the masses compounded his struggle to focus. Suspended in the air like a helpless infant, he felt his stomach drop as he watched his family hurtle closer to the ground, the distance between them and disaster dwindling. Gritting his teeth, he stared scornfully at the dragon, the weight of his pleas choking him. “Please... spare... my family!” Each word extracted a painful toll from his resolve.
“I'm sorry, mortal. Maybe it’s the years getting to me; I couldn’t hear you. Could you… speak up?” The dragon’s tone dripped with condescension, the sinister smile widening. Panic bubbled in Bucrok’s chest as he glanced downward. Nita and Nieesha were still falling, their screams piercing through the chaos, and he felt every ounce of desperation clawing at his insides. “Please, spare my family! Please!” Bucrok cried out, a desperate plea that echoed around him.
“Oh, you can’t say that Yourntihnac, the Hope Devourer, isn’t merciful,” the dragon intoned smoothly, feigning a sense of a noble spirit. Just when Bucrok dared to entertain the notion that perhaps, just maybe, the fiend would acquiesce and allow his family to be saved, the last words pierced through his thoughts like an ice dagger. “Hope Devourer?” he echoed, the pieces falling into place in a dreadful realization.
A mocking chuckle erupted from the dragon, and Bucrok turned his gaze downward just in time to see Nita and Nieesha being whisked upward once more, pulled back into the air as if by an unseen force. They soared past him, screams of terror escaping their lips, and despite Bucrok's frantic attempts to reach out, they vanished into the gaping maw of the rift, their shrieks fading into the abyss. Despair gripped him as he was left suspended in a sea of panicking souls. Burning rage consumed Bucrok, turning him into a whirlwind of fury, practically frothing at the mouth with helpless frustration as he raged against the loss of his family. The landscape around him faded from view, overtaken by the singular focus of his grief.
"NITA!" “NIEESHA!” His voice, raw and filled with unrestrained sorrow, reverberated through the chilling air, a haunting testament to his loss. The dragon, reveling in this emotional torment, watched with malicious glee, as if feasting on Bucrok's pain.
