Jessi: I gathered from the responses that I got that everyone was surprised, yey! Believe me when I say I've been waiting years to reveal that surprise (sad I know, but still very glad to do it). Was slightly confused by Triaxx2's review. I don't like people not finishing their sentences... I always wonder what they were going to say :p
One clawed foot rose and planted itself in front of the massive dragon. Gracefully, for something of such bulk, Chel stepped forward, muscles moving silky beneath a thick layer of armour. A long, pointed tongue brushed past scimitar-like fangs to taste the air.
His head on its long neck swung to look at Tiamat, the pupil-less eyes filled with rage,
"Do you recognize me now?" he did not speak Common anymore, instead an long-dead tongue, older than the language of today's dragons. This language was Ancient Draconic and the three living beings that still spoke it were all present on the summit.
"Its... not possible..." the Dark Lady only managed a feeble stammer. The platinum dragon grinned,
"So you do recognise me."
"No! I destroyed you! I killed you and all of your kind!"
A growl escaped from between Chel's fangs,
"I didn't die that day. You left me for dead!" the dragon lunged towards her, mouth wide.
Tiamat rapidly spoke an incantation and the dragon's wide maw closed only on thin air. The Dark Lady, reappearing on the other side of the summit, spoke another spell, one known only to the most powerful of mages.
A massive rent appeared in the ground, a malevolent slit of red glowing with an unearthly light. Two clawed hands gripped the sides and the horned head of a balor emerged from the rift.
A dark cloud of demons suddenly burst from the portal, fluttering on their misshapen wings. At the Dark Lady's command they rushed at the dragon.
Immediately they went for the eyes, the tiny quasits unable to pierce the thick scaly armour of the dragon. Chel closed his eyes, relying on his other senses as he crushed a hezrou beneath his clawed foot. A fiery whip lashed against his scales, the weapon strong enough to crack the armour. Sensing an advantage the balor who struck the blow repeated the strikes with his sword and whip.
Hissing, Chel aimed as best as he could and breathed. White flames rolled out of his mouth in a wide cone. Quasits turned to ash instantly. The offending balor fell back, batting at the magical fire on its body to no avail. A lot of it scorched the dragon's own flesh and he leapt backwards, wings flaring outwards.
On the ground, Tiamet tore a hole through the misshapen spider form of a bebilith with his magic. Two pieces of white light were slashing through the demons at his back, better than the finest swords or the sharpest claws.
Shards of ice, each the size of a dragon's fangs smashed into Chel's hide, cracking more of the burnt scales.
"This has gone far enough," growled Chel and he spoke a spell of his own. Instantly the rift vanished along with the demonic army.
Behind a protective pile of rubble Tiamet worked to open the rift once again, to bring back her advantage. She giggled as she finished the spell, awaiting more of her demonic soldiers.
Nothing happened.
"It's called Planer Lock," the platinum dragon padded closer, "My spell will make sure that no more reinforcements of your can be summoned."
The Dark Lady threw a fireball into his face. It fizzled out before it even touched him. With a single gesture Chel summoned four bright hoops with pinned the former deity to the earth. His mouth opened and he summoned every single ounce of power he had.
Tiamat shrieked, cursed and spat, an unending stream of hatred pouring from her mouth. These cries reached the ears of her brother who stood, eyes on the platinum dragon.
There will be no coming back for you, with that Chel let loose his strongest breath weapon, infused with all the power in his body. The blue beam of disintegration drove through the body of the female deity, the very particles of her form torn asunder.
With one last mad scream Tiamat, the Dark Lady of Dragons died.
Tiamet picked his way through the rubble, skirting the deep hole that Chel's breath weapon had left behind. He saw the form that his worshipper had managed to change into using the last of his strength and carefully lifted the slight body into a sitting position.
Healing magic ran from the deity into Chel's body. The winged elf in Tiamet's arms stirred, automatically trying to pull away.
"I could never understand your reluctance to be healed," the Dragon Lord pulled Chel closer, "And your preference for those regeneration spells of yours."
The large blue-green eyes opened, glowing with magic, slightly fearful.
"She is dead and gone," reassured the deity, "You won, though you still have a job to do."
"What would you have me do?"
"Vale, my cleric, she flew off in distress. I saw her when you were changing forms."
Chel's brow furrowed with worry,
"Where?"
"She used a flight spell and is off the mountain. I want you to find her and bring her back."
Nodding, Chel stood. A wave of a hand clothed his elven form in black robes once again. He was about to take off when the voice of his deity stopped him,
"I did not even know it was you, Chelevva, until you changed forms... You were always a master of polymorph."
"It has been a long time..."
"Enough. Go and find Vale... and Chelevva," the winged elf turned to face Tiamet, "I believe this is yours." In his elven hand Tiamet held the platinum holy symbol the lizardmen had taken from him.
The symbol around his neck once again Chel took off, his form changing once again.