No Storm Lasts Forever, a DND inspired story, by Allan Concillado

Chapter Three: The Flying Tower, Part Two

 
   The almost crimson dragonborn dawned simple iron armor, weapons strapped all over his body, dreadlocks flowing in the air with a rapier pointed down and held to his side as he fell. Any other details were unable to be disterned as the light once lighting his person faded with another clap of thunder from the storm. The light from the lightning was not needed to discern the appearance of the dwarven army at his side as the golden emblem pinned to their armor shone enough to tell they bore leather armor and were predominantly male with a few females among the crowd falling like hail. As panic began to set in to the majority of the party, the dragon dived.

     The silver dragon landed on the ground next to Zephyros as lightning struck the earth once again. "O-oh my..." Zephyr muttered before being knocked back by the dragon's skull, head butting the giant. The dragon reared its head upwards before snapping it back to the ground as it's howl rippled through the air, green mist following the roar, spewing all over Zephyros, locking up the giant's leg muscles.

    Before landing, the invading forces popped open a canister tied to their hips and drank. The army had landed, their entire forms covered in a thick green mist, a Gausus Form. Ace charged at one of the dwarfs covered in mist, but his blade went through him, as if cutting air. The dwarves were unblinking as they slowly fazed past the party and made their way towards the tower; all but the dragonborn and three other dwarves had made their way in by the time the red one turnt to the party. "Do not try to stop us, we are far outside your league," Orinus spoke with gravel in his tone..

    As he and the dwarves turned, Midnight, in a flash of darkness, appeared behind them as their heads tuned to meet his empty gaze. "Raimei!" his voice like thunder surrounded him, calling upon the true name of Thunderclap, clasping his hands together forming a tangible sound wave. The sound ripped through the air as it pushed the four invaders back outside, decimating their gausus form.

     The dragonborn of crimson hoisted himself up and raised his rapier to his chest. "Die!" he bellowed as he quickly advanced towards Midnight. Mid-swing, Ledias lept to Midnight's aid and parried the dragonborn's own attack and forced his blade downwards before slashing horizontally at the now off balance foe. Before she could complete the arch of her sword, the red dragonborn rolled out of the way and regained his composure, standing with his blade at the ready, leaving her blade to only taste the stone of the tower. Midnight, haven been given enough time to draw his own weapon and find a flank on the dragonborn, stood ready to attack alongside Ledias as soon as she had recovered from her failed swing.

     Ace took to arms, Slayer stood at the ready, Sorvex unsheathed his blade and Phil raised his daggers towards the three dwarves, two male one female. "You lot have a death wish?" spat the woman while the other two dwarves unhooked their great axes from their backs and hefted it to their fronts. She isn't a dwarf by first experiences. She seemed more human, tall and slender, but not so elegant.

     "I don't normally fry up women with my fire but for you, I'll make an exception," Slayer spoke before unbuckling his shortsword and raising it to meet his other hand to dual wield the blade.

     "Charlie, remember that name when you meet with the devils, should they ask you why your heads look like flat stones," said the human-like woman before the lighting struck once more, soon met with the charging of the dwarves with the first dwarf behind Charlie and the other beside her running at an equal paste.

     Slayer's lungs expanded and trembled as fire made its way up his throat only to be stopped midway as Charlie hefted her warhammer and swung upwards at his throat, nearly snapping his spine as the sheer force from the hit, sending him to the floor, coughing up ash and blood.

     Phil dashed towards the woman, daggers in his hands and steel in heart only to be intercepted by the bearded dwarf standing at her flank, forcing Phil to raise his daggers to block the swing of the dwarf's greataxe. The power of the swing and the rain sent one of Phil's knives skirting across the stone of the ground as he slipped upon the rainwater and fell onto his back.