The night sky was a crimson hue today. The great Red Dragon had burst through the smog he had created and was roaring in fury as four great heroes clung to its back, desperate to end the cruel creature’s reign. Roskov, with his close connection to living creatures, could see that the dragon was close to death. Hurtling through the sky to the lava pit below seemed like a terrible idea, so he motioned a rune with his hands and said a word Momo didn’t understand. But her ears picked up the sound of eagles, great, majestic beings, rulers of the sky, ready to help any way they could. Roskov let out a cry of triumph, welcoming his new allies. Then, the Monk Magnus, expertly balancing on the back of the furious, flying dragon, inched towards the monster’s head until, with a war-cry, he bore his fists upon its fearsome skull. Goald saw this and took the opportunity to slither his rapier through the dragon’s scales and pierce to its most vulnurable heart.
The dragon let out a final roar of fury and defiance before the light went out of its burning eyes. Momo, Gould, Roskov and Magnus held on to dear life as the dragon crashed down further into a molten pit of death. In the seconds the fall took, the eagles swooped in, allowing each adventurer to drop on their backs and land safely somewhere far from the heat and fire. Except there were only three eagles. Magnus was clinging to the neck of the falling dragon, a gale of air soaring around him. With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed onto one eagle flying beside him. For now, Magnus was safe. Goald too, gripping dragon scales on the creature’s back, calculated his chances of survival on the dragon and instead leapt towards the back of a second eagle flying towards him. His hands dug into its feathery back, and he breathed freely, knowing full well what would have awaited him below. Momo, seeing the ground gather fast before her, grabbed Roskov and threw herself at the final eagle.
It was too much for the bird. It was struggling to keep both itself and the people on its back in flight. Momo and Roskov prepared to meet their doom with dignity. Except, at the last moment, Roskov dug deep into his magic and called upon the powers of nature to spare him. They responded, and he summoned the image of a mole, a creature with claws so great that it could hold onto anything.
Except it couldn’t.
The new form Roskov took struggled to maintain its grip on the shoulders of the Barbarian Momo. He scrambled uselessly before he felt everything below him give way and then he was falling. He landed on the ground below with a thud and Roskov was no more. When everyone else had landed, Goald could see the body begin to roll down the bank and towards the lava.
“Poor Roskov.” Murmured Goald, pressing a fist into his chest and closing his eyes.
“Momo not know where dwarf is.” Momo was crouched and sniffing at the sulphur in the air, she rubbed her eyes, blinded by the sulphurous smoke around them.
“No, no, we can’t tell her, obviously. That would be cruel.” Magnus was staring up, as if talking to someone above him. Goald knew he was communicating with his “demon” friend.
“Let me just clarify something with you Momo, you don’t know where Roskov is?” Goald of Zahl asked, looking at Roskov’s body plopping into the lava and sinking into oblivion.
Momo stood up and sighed sadly. “Me no know.”
Goald patted the halfling on her fiery red, head. She sniffled while Magnus continued to chatter to his demon. “No, don’t be silly! Of course I can’t jump into that lava to recover the body. Yes I know you’ll find it warm and cosy.” He caught Goald’s look and Magnus lowered his voice.
“Do not fear Momo, when I write about this wonderous day, I will tell the world the truth, that he turned into a soaring eagle and flew into the sunset, having saved all of us from our certain deaths…” Goald finished his little speech with a flurry of his hands.
“Momo sad. Momo hungry too. Now Momo more sad.”
Magnus was glancing at the lava nervously. “My good friend has made an excellent point. We should really be getting away from here as soon as possible.” The giant eagles were still faithfully waiting for the trio, one final gift from Roskov, Son of the Mountain.