Roleplay

The din woke all three dragons from slumber, of course.

The din was so horrible that even Misery tucked her head between her paws to try and drown it out. Rohn's feathers were standing on end, and he was pressed hard into the ridgeback's side.

Only Iratha remained stalwart, holding her head high and facing the voices outside. Her claws were digging slightly into the floor as she tried not to listen too closely. But something stuck out to her, and she clung to it, puzzling over it and trying not to hear the wailing.

"There are only four of us." Why did it sound familiar?

Though Misery was focused on keeping the hatchling safely in her arms, the voices were tugging at her mind. Like something she had heard before. Perhaps the screams were a well known symphony to the tattered dragon. And her whole being recoiled at the nagging thought that spun through her head. You made such sweet music once . . . such a beautiful lullaby. And she was powerless to silence it. Thankfully, her resolve was as iron as Iratha's. At least for the time being.

The sounds continued into the early hours of the morning. They slowed in frequency. Everything seemed like the night would be uneventful that is until a quiet voice said "Hello?" from the other side of the of the door. At his point all hell broke loose inside the vault. A tundra, the one that was guarding the door when they arrived, flew into a flurry of rage. He charged the door screaming incoherently.

"Your dead! I buried you! Leave me alone!"

The tundra barreled headlong into the vault door. He collapsed onto the floor. Tears streaming from his face sobbing uncontrollably.

Scraping noises came from the other side of the vault.

Even Iratha fell into restless slumber eventually, unable to remain awake through the whole night. It wasn't getting in, and while it wasn't quieting they could at least try to tune out its voices.

It had been easy to figure out that it was repeating itself, speaking the last words heard from the dead. It was grim, but the hardship-tempered dragons could ignore it somewhat.

Iratha was quick to her feet, moving to pull the sobbing dragon away from the door. "Shhh," she soothed. "It's only mimicking the voices, trying to lure us out. Your loved one is still at rest." The guardian didn't know if it was true, she hoped so. She continued trying to calm the frantic dragon.

A pearlcatcher walked towered the grieving tundra. She patted the distressed tundra on the shoulder. "It isn't the monster. His wife died a year ago. Way before this all happened. She and two others went up on a day trip to ten pines mountain. She was the only one we ever found."

The noises went away leaving the vault in silence.

Bump

Iratha just sighed, finally letting go of the tundra once he had calmed. She wondered if it was responsible for those deaths too. At this rate, she was going to have to find the other paladins to deal with this thing.

They still had no idea how dangerous it really was.

With the silence, came more light and exhausted slumber.

After a good amount of restless sleep, the lock-pins in the vault door slid out of place. the door reluctantly swung open. Flame poked her head inside the door. She didn't speak. Instead she swung open the door fully and trudged back up the stairs.

The tundra that had lost it the night before sprinted, he bolted up the stairs. Flame, caught off guard, turned to see who was sprinting up behind her received a powerful shoulder check from the tundra who sprinted up and out of sight.

"Wha-? Dam it! Iratha with me! We need to catch him.

Everyone blinked awake slowly as the sound of the door opening signaled the morning. This time, even Iratha was slow to rise. Her legs were numb and she felt the weight of her armor hanging from her back.

The guardian's reaction was slow, but she still only took a moment to force her legs into motion. She barked at the other two to help and was loping up the stairs before they could untangle their limbs.

She was large and fast enough to overtake Flame quickly, heading straight for the door. Somehow, she knew that he was heading for the outside. Probably for the mountains.

((On that note, Iratha's reference has been updated. She's a light dragon finally.))

By the time Iratha had passed Flame. The tundra had made it out through the front door. He kicked off and flew into the air. Flame skidded to halt outside the door. Flame shouted to to Iratha

"Stop! It's to late to catch him now. He is headed up to the memorial, go put on your flying furs. Its to cold out here for any dragon to be flying without their furs. I'm going after him look for a bright light on the hill that will be were I am."

The guardian skidded to a halt in the slick snow, almost tempted to continue her chase. But, of course, Flame was right. It would do no good to get frostbite on her wings now, lest she end up looking Like Misery.

The others had caught up, the ridgeback already heaving. Rohn was already wearing his winter gear, and Misery's natural affinity made her all but immune to the cold, so long as she minded her cloak. "Go," she commanded. "No one flies alone." Iratha turned sharply to fetch her furs from her pack, leaving the others to heed Flame's instruction.

Misery grunted, and loped forward with the help of her wings. Perhaps wanting to get a head start since flying was out of the question.

Rohn shook out his densely-feathered wings. "Well," he chirped. "We'd best get going. Lone dragons ain't got the best track record out here. Mis 'll keep up well enough down there." He turned to size up the tundra, thinking that he would probably fly faster than either of the the bulky dragons could, but he would hardly be able to stop the runaway.

As much as the skydancer didn't think that ice magic would help much, he could at least keep the dragon from being alone out there. As far as he knew, the beast rarely attacked groups.