The rocks cascaded down, and Rotgoriel stared, with no idea what he should be doing.

Fortunately, someone else had opinions on their course of action.

Agnezsharron: Grab the houses!

Rotgoriel flew down, scooped up one of the village's houses. A few nearby soldiers saw what he was doing and piled onto it, clinging for dear life. Greg was among them, he was happy to see. Either way, his muscles proved useful, as he lifted the whole mass, tearing it free from the posts that held it to the ground.

Only once he was in the air did he realize that the next part of the plan needed some work.

Rotgoriel: I have one. Where shall I put it?

Agnezsharron: I do not know, just, just... hold onto it!

Rotgoriel: They are made to roll and fall, yes?

Agnezsharron: Yes, but everything is moving!

LivingDeadGrrl: I'll be there in five minutes.

Agnezsharron: There will be nothing left in five minutes.

LivingDeadGrrl: Shit. Red genie, can you help?

Antonic: I am doing what I can to aid my allies.

Rotgoriel glanced down. A soldier fell away, screaming, as he watched. But Greg was hanging on tight, along with three of Mayhew's men.

Rotgoriel: Can you find Pat?

Antonic: I do not know that name, effendi.

Rotgoriel: Father Nosebest. Find him and get him to safety.

Antonic: I hear and obey, oh blessed of Anjuuta!

Rotgoriel: Invite him to the party, too.

He turned, doing his best to hold the house stable as he searched about, watching the flow of the mountain and the spray of stone and screaming bodies.

PER+1

Rotgoriel: I see a spot that should be clear! I will start piling houses there.

He lost another soldier on the flight over, but there was nothing to be done about it. Finally he reached the ridge he'd seen. A ledge higher up was breaking the spray around and away from it, it should be safe enough for now.

“Are you well?” he asked Greg.

Greg was shivering. “Almost out of stamina. Too cold.” he was in his boxers again.

“Check the house, see if there's anything in there you can use.”

Greg nodded and vanished inside.

Rotgoriel took to the air again, and angled towards the village. “Invite Sir Gideon to party.”

Sir Gideon has joined your party!

The first wave of the avalanche had struck it, and was battering at the outbuildings and chasing fleeing soldiers down the slopes. Rotgoriel reached another house and started working it free, then, looked up to see Agnezsharron across the way, doing the same.

“We cannot get all of them,” he told her.

“Try anyway!” she yelled, her eyes frantic and flashing.

And so he did. He managed to get two more houses across, before the rest were washed away. Agnezsharron managed three more, but was forced back from trying to lift the inn, as wedges of stone five times her size smashed it asunder, and carried it away down into the mist-filled valley.

Father Nosebest has joined your party!

Father Nosebest: Well this is a thing. Shall we meet at the rally point?

Rotgoriel: No. We have saved most of the village. Look for it on the southwestern ridge.

Father Nosebest: There's a lot of ridges and plenty of southwest.

Agnezsharron: Then look for the big dragons you mouth-breathing turnipweasel!

Father Nosebest: Love you too, Aggy. No, wait, the opposite. On my way.

It took a long time for the mountain to stop falling. Agnezsharron winged down to the valley once things were stable, looking for survivors.

Rotgoriel rested, gathering his strength. The foes would come, once the way was stable. And their Earth Elementalists were strong; if there was no stable way, then they could make one.

Below him, Greg walked out of the house he'd entered, wearing a pink poofy coat that looked entirely ludicrous on him. But the pick he was slicing through the air seemed sharp enough. He didn't seem thrilled, though. “You have to be shitting me. You don't have any armor around this place? None?”

“I have no armor available for trade, ally! You will need to locate other traders!” Tinty Bortiz protested, as he followed Greg out.

“Easily solved,” Rotgoriel rumbled. He flew down to the landslide, found the bloody remnants of the soldiers who'd failed to escape the landslide, and dropped it in front of Greg when he returned.

“Works for me,” Greg said, stripping the corpse. He still kept the pink coat on over the armor, though. For all its gaudiness it seemed fairly warm. Also familiar to Rotgoriel somehow, but he couldn't quite place it, and had other things to worry about anyway.

Things like the skeletal figure flying towards them. It resolved into Invictus, clutching a child-sized form to his chest. The robes fluttered in the wind as the figure flew awkwardly, almost seeming to stutter as it drifted closer.

“Mayhew,” Rotgoriel said. Behind him he felt the rush of wind as Agnezsharron returned.

“Heya Rich. This sucks,” Cole said, looking up from where Mayhew was cradling him.

“Very much sucks,” Rotgoriel confirmed. “Film at eleven,” he said, throwing in some slang that Rich had coached him on a few days ago.”

Cole laughed his ass off. Mayhew startled, and almost dropped the halven.

“Flying's that hard, huh? Sir?” Greg asked.

“Need a moment to focus,” Mayhew muttered, then landed hard near one of the huts. “We're not entirely screwed but...”

Rotgoriel waited for the lich to continue.

“He's having problems,” Cole apologized. “Anyway, can you invite me to—”

“Invite Tinty to party,” Rotgoriel heard Agnez whisper, as faintly as a wind brushing a treetop.

“Tinty” has joined your party!

—your party?” Cole asked.

“I am sorry, but we are full up,” Rotgoriel said. “We need everyone here. Can you start your own?”

“We've still got half our army!” Mayhew burst out. “Can... move them up. Hold this ground.”

Rotgoriel checked the horizon. The sun was down, and the stars were starting to come out in the bleak darkness, gems spilled on a velvet curtain. He knew the moon was rising, but it would some time before it crested the mountains. The city would be hidden until then.

A flicker of motion, and Pat clambered over the edge of the ridge, armor battered and robes torn. He panted, and grinned upward at the dragons looming over him. “So what now?”

“Dragonseye,” Rotgoriel rumbled, and looked to the north. He sucked air through his teeth at what he saw. “Now we fight. Because they are not waiting for their army.”

There were questions, but Rotgoriel spread his wings and took to the sky. “As we planned,” he called to Agnezsharron.

Her eager growl was all the agreement he needed.

It was a chunk of the mountain itself. A twenty foot ledge of stone lifted into the sky through raw magical force, a display that Rotgoriel had to admit was effective.

But the grudging admiration faded, leaving only grudge, as Rotgoriel approached. He knew those four standing atop the flying island. He knew them very well.

Doctorhealgood stood in front of Boombabe, staff out, and the battered copper half mask on his face was the other side of the one Boombabe wore. The halves of their faces that were visible hadn't the faintest wisp of emotion. Their eyes barely tracked him as he flew closer.

On the other side, a man in dark leathers crouched, holding a pair of knives low while his cape blew in the rushing wind. He wore no mask, and he sneered as Rotgoriel came. Captainstabyn was his name, and Rotgoriel fully expected roguelike bullshit from his direction.

The last of them crouched in his armor, shield up and with a helm hiding his face. He paced the island like a restless predator, clearly not at ease with the situation.

“I will see you dead!” Rotgoriel bellowed.

Scornful laughter from Captainstabyn and Tankitaway.

“And claim your treasure for my hoard!”

The laughter died. “Come and take it then,” Captainstabyn yelled back.

“Also I am the distraction!” Rotgoriel bellowed.

“What?”

Agnezsharron streaked by from behind, roaring flame as she went. Rotgoriel hit them from the front with his own, swooping above the island, and letting his wrath burn free....

….but when he looked back and began to curve around, he saw the clouds of flame washing away from invisible walls. Boombabe had repeated her trick, built up walls of force. Except she'd anchored these to the island, somehow.

The flames died, and the night returned. Boombabe was moving amid the fading embers, and he watched her move to the back corner, and point in his direction.

The angle was bad; that was all that saved him.

The crackling blue bolt slammed into his side, and Rotgoriel spun, managed to regain control even as the pain filled him. That had hurt. That had hurt a lot.

Father Nosebest has blessed your agility!

+100 agility!

He wasn't fighting alone anymore.

Father Nosebest has healed you for 56 HP!

The thought gave him strength, and his newfound speed let him dodge the follow-up blast. He kept his eye on Boombabe as he turned a wide curve into a tight curve, and saw her stride across the stone platform as he went.

There are holes in the walls. She is firing through those. I have to attack where the holes aren't.

Except that would do no good. Even with his strength, the walls could not be broken with force.

Sir Gideon: Yo, Invictus here is telling me he can drop walls one at a time. You want him to start taking down their defenses?

The island picked up speed, almost as if it had heard the comment. Agnezsharron tried another strafing run, and narrowly dodged a blue bolt sent her way.

Rotgoriel: Taking them down does little good. She can just put them up again. Ask him if he knows how they are anchored to the island.

Rotgoriel tried getting closer while Boombabe was chasing Agnezsharron through the air. “Burninate!”

This time he saw small sections of his flame lick through a few holes, as the wall was illuminated. But the island was moving now, and what might have been a useful strike sputtered out, as the shifting windows made any sort of sustained blast impossible.

And this drew Boombabe's attention. He saw the part of her lips not covered by the mask move, and suddenly there was a blue wall in front of him. He twisted, and thanks to his blessed agility, avoided being boxed.

Sir Gideon: Invictus says that the walls are anchored to the island.

Rotgoriel: To all of the island, or just the part they're touching?

Sir Gideon: Just the part they're touching.

Rotgoriel: What happens if they become un-anchored?

Agnezsharron: This island is moving with purpose. Where is it going?

Rotgoriel did a barrel roll. They were well over the valley now, far past the area the landslide had touched.

Rotgoriel: Someplace in the city. We are being drawn in, I think.

INT+1

Sir Gideon: Invictus says he doesn't know. There's something wrong with the guy. He keeps getting distracted. It's like my grandpa with dementia all over again.

Rotgoriel: Then let us find out. Agnezsharron, lure the mage. I need a clear run.

Agnezsharron: You are finally being smart. This is good. Get ready!

Rotgoriel sped in, keeping his head down and his wings moving. He trusted full in Agnezsharron, and was rewarded for it. At the very least, no bolts came his way, and when he was almost upon the island he dove, looping under... and up.

He slammed into the stony underside of the island, knocking dirt and rocks loose to fall into the mist below. Grabbing on with all his claws he turned, and started crawling along the bottom, moving into position facing the “front” of the platform.

And then he began to dig.

He was a stone dragon; his claws could shear rock. His strength was that of the mountains themselves, and his sturdiness not far behind. He had chosen to be this sort of dragon, one that had little to fear from the physical things of the world. And he had never regretted that choice, not even once.

Rotgoriel: Get ready to breathe at the front of the island, Agnezsharron. Use that other breath of yours.

He wasn't sure what she had. On the party screen she was listed as a Young Forest dragon —23, and gods only knew what lurked in their gullet. But these four would have defenses against fire. Fewer against fungus, he reckoned.

And with a final rasping slash, he felt the island shudder. Heard the crunch of rock on rock.

He'd carved away the anchors that held one of the walls, cut the stone loose from the island itself.

Rotgoriel hadn't been sure what would happen, here. He'd thought perhaps the anchoring chunks would fall down to the ground, taking the wall with it. But instead, he watched the chunks grind against the island, then be drawn upwards and along the top part of the stone platform, as an unstoppable force met a suddenly unmoveable object.

And in the process, it pushed the wall of force they were anchored to along the inside of the box like some sort of crushing trap.

Yells from CaptainStabyn and Doctorhealgood. Then the island shuddered to a stop, and the anchoring rocks fell loose and away to the valley; Boombabe had canceled that wall of force.

Rotgoriel: Now!

He dropped away, unfurling his wings as he went...

...and felt a slight impact on his back, as something struck it.

Then pain, a hot needle of pain right in his spine as he roared!

CaptainStabyn has backstabbed you for 252 HP!

He rolled, folding his wings as he went, and felt the expected rogue bullshit as CaptainStabyn parkoured his way up him, flipping up and around as they fell, taking cheap shots with his dagger as he went, mouthing skills that Rotgoriel didn't bother to listen to.

Rotgoriel only had one thing to say as he stabilized, still falling, with the player on his belly. And that thing was “Chomp!”

The rogue dove, free and away, laughing as he dodged. He spread his cape and it popped open as he started drifting down, waving with the fingers of his free hand as Rotgoriel fell.

He didn't see Agnezsharron descending on him from above.

Rotgoriel turned then and left her to him, hearing the faint scream of the player on the wind, cut short as she took her own bite at the slowly falling target. He would have been better served to stay on Rotgoriel, come to think of it. But instinct had betrayed the rogue, and now he was going to lose some time respawning and regaining his gear... if he could.

Beating his wings with all his might, he managed to pull up before he met the floor of the valley.

Your Fly skill is now level 27!

Party Member Agnezsharron has killed CaptainStabyn!

PVP timer extended to 24:00:00!

You are now a level 13 Young Stone Dragon!

CON+30

STR+30

WILL+30

WIS+30

Armor+25

Endurance+25

Mental Fortitude+25

The power coursed through him, and he almost crashed, as he rode out the shuddering ecstacy.

Then he did crash.

After picking himself up he found he was in a box again. Boombabe had done her work, caught him while he was distracted. Rotgoriel growled... but this time he had a counter for it.

Something stayed him, though. Some instinct to look up and around. They were roughly in the center of the valley, and the island had stopped moving.

Rotgoriel frowned.

Agnezsharron: You're trapped? Let me go fry the mage.

Rotgoriel: No! Wait!

Agnezsharron swept up...

And walls of force slid into existence above and below her, snapping into place with inhuman swiftness. She hit the top one, rebounded, and collapsed on the 'floor' below her...

...and blue bolt after blue bolt snapped from the island, ripping into her as she howled.

I have to do this now! Rotgoriel realized. “Divine Transit!”

With a POP, both of them were outside of their cages. They flew back to the relocated village at top speed, and landed. Hard. Immediately Agnezsharron's blood sluiced down on the ground, ripping through the snow and ice with steaming gore.

“Shit!” Rotgoriel started his litany. “Lesser Healing, Lesser Healing, Lesser—”

“I've got her!” Pat ran toward the wounded dragon, pulling out blue potions as he ran. “You need to get back up there and keep them away from us!”

“Regeneration,” Agnezsharron muttered. “I've got myself. But yes, you stall them.”

“That's only gonna work a while,” Greg said, peering south. “Remember their army? They're coming this way.”

“I have this,” Invictus said, striding toward Rotgoriel. “Carry me on your back, Royal.”

“Carry us,” Cole said. “I'm going too. You'll need me, boss.”

Rotgoriel felt a twinge of embarrassment, and glanced toward the great green dragon next to him.

She slapped him. “No time for pride! Do it!”

“Get on before I regret this,” Rotgoriel growled, hunkering down to let the lich and the halven onto his back.

He led the Bharstool Warmers on a merry chase through the valley, dodging blue blasts from Boombabe while Invictus returned fire with his own crackling black bolts, and Cole shouted directions.

It worked well for a time, and the moon rose above the mountains, the Warmers seeming to get more frantic as they did their best to run him down. But even a stone dragon was still a dragon, and with his agility still blessed it was easy to outfly them.

“Now!” Cole said. “Head for the middle of it! We'll try to draw them in!”

“Very well,” Rotgoriel grunted, and headed back to the place where they'd first caught him in the walls of force. “And then what?”

“Then you regret your life choices. Backstab!”

“Drain Life!” Mayhew joined in.

And then Rotgoriel was staring at the gray nothingness of death chat.

He sat there for a moment, watching the madness of the words slip by.

He smiled.

“It went just as you said, brother. Now it is OUR turn to be the sneaky bastards!”