Smash the Dragon

It had been a month since the defeat of Mordremoth by Dragon's Watch, and, despite the continued presence of the other Elder Dragons looming on the horizon, all of Tyria celebrated. With two dragons slain, everyone was in high spirits, and a renewed influx of volunteers to join The Pact meant more people than ever were joining guilds to fight for their world's salvation. Bandits were pushed back to their iniquitous dens, the Sons of Svanir were sweating in their ice huts, and minions of the dragons everywhere were finding it more and more difficult to grab a foothold in the world at large. It was a time of triumph, a time of camaraderie, but, as an unfortunate number were fated to discover, a time for change as well.

Night fell over the Blazeridge Steppes as purple lightning cut jagged scars across the sky, burning after images in the eyes of those too inexperienced to avoid looking up. The thunder of the storm did not rumble so much as roar as it rolled across the plains. Locals began retreating to their homes for the night, aware of the violence soon to unfold within The Dragonbrand. For the past month since Mordremoth's defeat, The Shatterer, dragon minion of Kralkatorrik, had not appeared to terrorize the countryside. His nightly attacks were a strain upon the already burdened soldiers tasked with fighting off the creatures corrupted by the brand, and his sudden disappearance was a welcome relief, though the veterans among them could not shake the uneasy feeling that this was simply a brief respite, before its efforts were redoubled. But, as night after night, The Shatterer refused to appear, tensions eased, and guards were relaxed. So relaxed, that the Guild regularly tasked with containing The Shatterer's rampage, OHM, had begun to slack in their duties, sending only a token force to stand as an advance guard against his return, which seemed less and less likely.

It was on this fateful night, that lone guildmates Hkevin and Morgoth the Fallen, who had been assigned the duty as punishment, stood a bored and frivolous guard on The Dragonbrand's edge. With them, a skeleton crew of Sentinels and Vanguard gunners stood by, weapons some distance away, playing cards and draining drinks faster than the quartermasters could call for new kegs. Hkevin sat down beside Morgoth, who looked out over the scarred expanse in a half sleep.

"I go to one guild mixer without repping the guild," Hkevin complained, "and I get stuck pulling an all-night shift watching for a dragon that probably turned tail and ran once it heard we had slain yet another Elder Dragon."

Morgoth roused from his dreary contemplation of the color purple to snort at Hkevin's comment. He had been scarce at guild meetings and events lately, having found his true passion in competitive Crab Toss. Since he had neglected to officially resign from the guild, however, he had been tracked down and rather fiercely lectured to complete a backlog of guild services before his resignation would be official. This was to be his last duty and, though it seemed a cliche to him, being one day away from retirement had him in a talkative mood. "But don't you know, big guy?" He said to the Norn. "The Shatterer, terror that he is, may stalk the skies yet, waiting maliciously to rain down lightning, death, destruction and, worst of all... purple crystals, upon our unsuspecting heads!" He delivered his warning with the melodrama the guild vanguard liked to sprinkle into their pre-battle warmup speeches, though his oration was heavily spiced with mocking sarcasm.

Hkevin snickered and turned to look out north, towards where the Dragonbrand had originated, and from where The Shatterer used to approach. "I mean, I was here a couple of times back when his attacks were regular, and even then, our guildmates led the kind of battle that left no room for chance. Once that dragon touched down, he stayed down." He shook his head."Now, though? I don't know what we were so afraid of. It's pretty obvious these dragons are intelligent enough to see when they're in trouble. The Shatterer may have been a little thick, but it looks like he finally got the message."

Morgoth nodded without saying anything. After a few minutes silence, he looked up at the darkening sky, and the growing storm. "Kinda weird though, weather hasn't been like this since Shatty's last attack. You don't think...?"

"Are you kidding? The advance scouts would have sent someone back at even the slightest bit of movement from the crater. The Brand just fucked everything up here; weather included. Weather like this happened even when Shatterer wasn't around."

"You're probably right, but not a bad idea to ready the men, just in case."

Hkevin sighed and stood back up. "Alright, but they're not gonna like it, especially the sleeping ones." He moved to pick up his staff, when a shaking of the ground sent it clattering away.

He froze. Earthquakes weren't common in this part of Ascalon. With slowly dawning horror, he turned to Morgoth, who had drawn his sword and was searching the air frantically. Shaking ground meant a dragon should have touched down, but the stormy sky was empty of flying terrors. The other soldiers back at the camp had all drunkenly stumbled up into standing positions, attempting to get into their battle positions, manning the mortars and turrets. Morgoth turned to one of the soberer looking ones and yelled at him over the growing noise of grinding earth, "Hit the waypoint and get whoever you can from the nearest fortress! Now!"

The Vigil member gave a shaky salute and dashed off to the floating cube that would send him swiftly to the nearby garrison. Some of the men near him, misunderstanding his flight, turned to follow him, but a sharp order from their sergeant brought them to their senses, and preparations continued.

The rumbling had grown to an almost unbearable noise, and just as it reached its peak, a mighty crack shook to ground and sent mounds of it heaving in all directions. Everyone present was knocked to their feet by the shockwave, and some were pinned underneath rubble. Morgoth was one of the first to find his feet, and when he stood, he stared, dumbfounded at what had become of The Brand. There, in the crater, grew enormous, plantlike stalks, writhing and thrashing with life, but with a dry, dessicated look that made them seem like the roots of an enormous, dead weed.

"Impossible." He breathed. Mordremoth was dead, and even if he weren't his corruption had only struck the jungles of Maguuma, without any sign of it farther north that the Kessex Hills. Suddenly, a cold shock of fear and realization had him scanning the area for enemies. Those tendrils usually brought with them a sea of enemies, but when none were forthcoming, his began to cautiously approach, sword and shield at the ready. Behind him, Hkevin followed, his staff's tip lit with a prepared blast should trouble arrive.

"What do you think this is?" Asked Hkevin.

"Don't know," Morgoth replied, "but I don't need to be an Asura to know this is going to be serious trouble." He had approached to within 5 feet of one of the wriggling roots, and inspected it from what he judged to be a safe distance.

No doubt, these were the same jungle roots that had infested the western edges of the continent, but there were differences. These tendrils seemed to move with an order to them, first of all, as opposed to the wild undulations Mordremoth's minions usually exhibited. Secondly, even the largest of the roots did not bear flowers, as these did. Certainly, not flowers as vibrant as the purple ones that spotted the one before him.

Purple. Crystal. Flowers. Morgoth noticed with dread. Oh no.

"Hey, what a weird looking flower." Hkevin said, reaching out to pluck one from the root. Morgoth frantically reached to stop his companion, but it was too late. Hkevin snapped a crystal flower from the plants bark.

All at once, the ground beneath them exploded outward. Morgoth grabbed Hkevin and rolled backwards with him, away from the churning earth and raining debris. Once they were clear, they ran back to the rim of the crater, and stood, frozen in terror at what had burst up from the earth.

The Shatterer stood before them, but unlike anything they had ever seen before. The once disjointed wings, formed of crystals suspended by the power of the dragon were interwoven with branches, and its skin was a clashing mismatch of heavy bark and its stone carapace, creating a thick armored webbing where once weapons could slip through the armored crystals to disrupt the energy within the beast. Its eyes glowed with that same purple fury, coupled now with a green energy that seemed to spark and burst randomly. Where its claws tilled the earth, gnarled roots spread rapidly across the ground, paths of dirt rising from each step. But worst of all was the dragon's maw. Where once gaped a fanged abyss, now it also sported a forked tongue of wood, and dripped a viscous purple slime, which crystallized and broke the very plants growing underneath Shatterer even as they grew. It roared once, and the keening shriek set new waves of terror rolling through the men and women gathered before it. The Shatterer had returned, and more horrifying than ever.

"I think we're fucked." Morgoth spoke to the others, stating the painfully obvious.

End chapter 1