Tiberius looked down. It was a very long way up. He wasn’t exactly sure why he chose to misty step onto the back of an adult green dragon. It was not a well thought out decision he realized. The beast threatened to kill his friends and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. As the dragon was clearly wounded, and Tiberius was purely sword and board, getting up close was the only way he knew how to fight.
As he watched the ground move farther and farther away, he knew that he made a fatal choice.
He managed to pin his left boot under a dragon scale, but that was no way to stay on a dragon’s back. He looked at the axe in his left hand and his shield on his right. He needed to choose. Longingly, he looked at his axe. It was an heirloom of the Hammersmyth Clan. He smashed it once again against the dragon scale, but it didn’t even leave a scratch. He released his grip and watched it fall. He slid his fingers underneath a scale and made a fist. With a foot and a hand secured in place, he hoped to able to stay on.
He started to bash the dragon with his shield. It wasn’t doing anything either, but it was the hardest thing for him to give up. He understood why dragon scale was such a desired commodity for armor. As he continued to futilely pound away, he realized that this was the best possible outcome. Flying away with the dragon meant that the Band of Irons would survive. His only concern was whether the rest of the band would appreciate his sacrifice. Sadly, he knew the answer to that question.
The dragon, Chaustichlorinus, turned its head to face Tiberius. She was amazed at the determination of the hopeless dwarf. She marveled at how an ignorant lesser creature could possess armor with that history. Chaustichlorinus had only desired to possess it for a hundreds of years, soon it would be part of her collection.
Now exhausted, Tiberius has not damaged the dragon in the slightest. He stopped and wiped his brow. He looked at his shield and let it fall. (At this point the party thinks it is Tiberious falling)
Tiberius sat for a second wondering what to do next. He stuck the fingers of his right hand under a scale a made a fist. He then pulled out his left and looped the leather tether attached to his Dagger of Pholtus. He wasn’t going to loose his dagger. He then shoved the dagger under a scale and twisted. The dragon twitched in agony. Tiberius chuckled. That did something.
Chaustichlorinus rolled slightly to the left as Tiberius worked. Tiberius shifted his weight to maintain balance. With that, the dragon barrel rolled hard to the right at the same time whipping its tail. Tiberius lost his grip and immediately started to fall.
Tiberius closed his eyes. It would only be a matter of time. By memory, he began to recite the Pholtan Prayer to the Fallen by memory as tears filled his eyes.
Listen to me, my kinsman at this moment, for I am your guide.
Tiberius was sad that he had to say this prayer to himself.
Since you went forth into the darkness, Pholtus gave you water to drink. You bore a burden that is not your own, and for this you are blessed. Although you are in the midst of his enemies and the beasts of darkness surround you, He will avenge you and they will be burned by His wrath.
Remember in your last moments that he divided the light and the dark. He made the sun and the moon to light your way. He was life to all, but the darkness turned their backs to the truth.
He is everything. He bears the skies. He is the foundation. He supports the earth. He is the Light that shines forth, that gives joy to the soul.
Lo, the darkness you have subdued. Lo, the fire of the fountains of evil you have extinguished.
You will close your eyes at last only to open them to his radiance. Your Father is calling you.
Now go aboard the Ship of Light and receive your garland of glory and return to His kingdom and rejoice with all the saints.
Peace, in Order, by Order of Pholtus.
At peace, Tiberius tumbled and waited for his end to come.
Tiberius’ moment of peace lasted just a moment. The pain in his abdomen made him nearly pass out. He felt himself lifted briskly. Hot and humid breath, strong of chlorine, surrounded him and burned his wounds. The teeth that held him in place were massive. He tried to breathe, but his lungs gurgled. The fucking dragon was not going to let him fall to his death in peace.
Tiberius vomited blood. He didn’t have long. With his life fading, he grabbed the symbol of Pholtus from around his neck, and shoved it between two dragon teeth. With all his remaining strength, he jammed it as hard as he could. The holy symbol cut his hand. The dragon roared in pain, but not before biting down harder and severing Tiberius in two.
As Tiberius fell towards the ground, he looked at the cut in his hand. Though it was deep, no blood came forth. “Dammit. The fucking elf wins.” he thought….
He closed his eyes, and passed before his body hit the ground.
Tiberius is dead.