The Unsmashable Dragon
Morgoth was stunned. It had been a full ten minutes since The Shatterer had burst forth from the earth, and despite the frantic, hurried response of the defenders, it seemed to largely ignore the mortar and turret fire that screamed through the air and burst futilely against its hardened carapace. Ground units attacked independently; magic flying and weapons swinging, but nothing seemed to pierce the dragon's armor.
"It's tougher than the scales of Tequatl," he mused to himself, feeling strangely detached from the assault. "Nothing we've got here has any chance of breaking its defenses. We need more firepower, and about five times this number." He turned to the waypoint, but there was no sign of the Vigil recruit he had sent for reinforcements. A shout from one of the nearby turret crews snapped him out of his reverie.
"We're running low on ammunition!" An engineer barked, pointing at a dwindling pile of mortar shells without looking up from calculating the arc for the mortar fire. "And so far, we haven't made so much of a scorch mark, no matter where we hit it!" The other crews were reporting similar deficiencies in both ammo and effectiveness. Morgoth turned from one reporting soldier to another, unsure of what course of action to take. The task would be easier if Shatterer were actually bothering to attack, or do anything! At least then defenses could be formed, or an unarmored point might be revealed, but instead it stood there infuriatingly still aside from turning its head to regard the attacking force.
Hkevin ran back from the frontline, out of breath, but otherwise uninjured. He took a few gulps of air as he reached Morgoth, and shook his head. "We've had gliders and rogues searching that thing from snout to tail, and we can't find any place that's taken damage, or seems vulnerable. But the damn dragon hasn't even bother to call down lightning. It's just standing there, and our ground crews have been in more danger from missed mortar shots than the dragon itself." He turned back around to the still form of The Shatterer. "What the hell is it doing?" He asked, and Morgoth had no answer for him. As alien as the dragons' minds were, this went beyond strange. The rules of the world were simple. Don't leave home without a weapon, never pull a Charr's tail, and elder dragons want to kill you. This was defying that final law, and yet, Morgoth was far from comforted by that fact. A thrumming from the Waypoint, though, helped ease his tension.
Reinforcements. About time.
Through the waypoint surged a wave of warriors and supply carts. Squads moved in unison to relieve the front lines, and more firing crews move new and more specialized turrets into place on the ridge. A small number of the troops broke off from the crowds and joined Morgoth, and he recognized a few of them, most comforting of all, Alcina Larron, the Psuedoscorpion. Someone with that much experience had to be more capable of finding a plan of attack for this new threat. As well, a few warriors bearing Morgoth's guild emblem were there as well. More soldiers well blooded on repelling the attacks of The Shatterer. He didn't recognize them, but introductions could wait. As quickly as he could, Morgoth gave a full report of what had transpired since the dragon had appeared, the others listening with grim, focused expressions, not interrupting except to ask short questions, clarifying the seeming invincibility of this new form.
"This is a whole hell of a lot more bodies than I expected to get." Morgoth admitted as Alcina drew closer. "And I certainly didn't count on new artillery, not that I'm complaining."
"Actually, these were coming here soon regardless." Alcina replied. "News from the Asuran researchers has warned us that with each death of an Elder Dragon, they others take on their magic, as well as adapting to some of the sphere of their influence. With that in mind, we figured it might not be a bad idea to beef up some of the usual routes of attack their minions like to use. We just didn't expect it to be on such a short time table. If you don't mind, I'll take command here. Better if your guild stuck together and worked as a specialized strike force, given its familiarity with the target."
Morgoth nodded gratefully at the chance to relinquish command. He was meant for fighting, not leading. He moved to join the rest of the reinforcements from his guild, who had begun to take up positions for reconnaissance of the fight, until a plan could be formulated. He spoke to a Charr close to the back of the formation.
"Surprised none of the Vanguard or guild leader showed up. New dragon means we could really use them here." He stuck out a hand. "Morgoth, by the way."
"Mustard Tiger," The Charr replied. "And I'm afraid this is all we're going to get from the guild for right now. Half the Vanguard is deep in the Maguuma jungle, and it'd take too long for any messengers we sent to find them. The leader and the others took the rest of them as well as a few of the higher ranked members to instruct them on combatting enemies in the Spirit Vale, so they're not really available either."
"Great. Well at least we've got better number now. Must be over a hundred out there now. No way that much focused firepower can be ignored."
And Morgoth seemed to be right. Ballista and acid lobbers joined the mortars and turrets, and the air filled quickly with the arcs of renewed fire. Acid melted slowly away at the tougher parts of The Shatterer's carapace, and the high-powered piercing ammunition found purchase on its hide, though for now, the damage still seemed superficial. A cheer went up as the dragon seemed to feel this renewed assault, and it folded its wings over the front of it, protecting its chest and face.
"We've got it on the defensive now!" Alcina called from the position overlooking the battle. "All available squads, move into close range, and focus fire on the joint where wing meets torso! Let's ground this bastard!" And with a mighty roar, the combatants moved in, firing away at the designate targets.
Finally. A voice in Morgoth's head sounded, and a faint smile crept across his face as his impatience washed away. He charged forward with the members of his guild, circling around the back to get a clear shot at its wings. Finally. The voice sounded again, and this time he faltered in his steps.
That voice didn't belong to him.
A sudden rumbling behind him and the rest of the soldiers caused the charging line to shake, stall, and then fall apart. Some were knocked prone by the renewed shaking of the earth, while other found it hard to continue moving over the shifting plane, and stumbled into one another.
Before any call for retreat could be made, a shower of dirt and rock from the upper ridge struck them, as more roots and vines, grasping and writhing, towering over the others that had initially sprouted, struck the turret emplacements from underneath. Crew and machines alike were entangled and hoisted them high into the air, turning worked metal to scrap, and trained flesh to paste. Still more vine grew from the ridge, and interwove with each other, forming high, impassible barriers, cutting off all retreat, as well as any further reinforcements from the waypoint.
The ground units looked around fearfully, realizing too late what had occurred. The dragon had not been standing idly all that time, but had instead been slowly working more of its growth beneath the soil, laying it out wide in a trap. As the corrupted plant life continued to grow, the trapped legions broke and scattered, seeking to escape the confines of this jungle formed of dead branches and crystalline flowers. Those nearest the edges reached the foot of those massive vines in time to begin squeezing through the narrowing openings, only to become trapped, and ground into bloodied chunks as those only a few seconds slower watched on in horror.
Up and up those tendrils grew, blocking out the already dim and purple light of the sky, until they enclosed the crater entirely. Darkness shrouded Morgoth and the other hundred odd soldiers trapped with him, until a faint purple light began to shine from the various purple flowers sprouting on the wooden walls. Dim, shadowy illumination washed over them, giving all those present a sickly look to them, though that may have also been the fear draining their faces of color. A deafening rush of wind, like a sigh or snort made monolithic sounded from the darkness ahead of him, and he looked on in horror as The Shatterer's dripping maw appeared from the shadows, only partially lit by the light of its own growths.
Finally. The voice sounded a third time, buzzing throughout his entire skull, feeling as if it meant to shake his teeth loose. Judging from the looks on his allies' faces, they all felt the same voice in their heads, and the implication of that terrified him.
I have waited weeks for the necessary numbers to arrive, only for you mortals to relax your guard as soon as I relented for a short while. I have grown impatient, worms, and so I have been forced to take action and draw you out of your hovels. The Shatterer's massive head leaned low, bringing its lower jaw level with the heads of most of the defenders. The voice was its voice, there was no mistaking that, and a low cry of terror passed through the assembled troops.
Twice now! The voice roared. Twice you have slain Elders on par in power with my master. You insignificant creatures, incapable of wielding even an ounce of the power they command, have committed the ultimate offense, and slain your obvious superiors. Well, no longer. The dragon's gaping mouth opened wider, and if such monsters were capable of expressing joy, Morgoth would have sword it was a smile.
Kralkatorrik has taken on a portion of the Jungle Dragons sphere, and thus has gained even greater wisdom along with an expanded mind. He has made his desires known to me, and what it is I must do here now. I must not slay you lowly bugs. I must study you. We must understand you, and your feeble minds, as one attempts to understand the motivations of a termite. And to do that, I shall experiment with you. I shall test your limit. And, as it is meant to be…
I shall break you all.
Oh yeah. Morgoth thought, his last coherent one before fear overtook him completely.
We're definitely fucked.