Corvayne let his friends know he'd aim to be back in fifteen minutes or so, then set off down the twisting street to the right. It was a tall, narrow corridor of buildings and cobblestone that dipped and climbed unseen hills the city had been built over. The doors on either side hung empty and open, black against the pale blue of the moonlit walls and door frames. He moved slowly, new eagle eyes helping him make out details in the murk inside buildings. There was no movement and no noises aside from a faint breeze. There were side streets here and there but they all were short, ending in brick walls decorated with gargoyle faced foutains dribbling out water, or in walls that didn't match the surroundings. In a way it felt more grounded then other places in the dungeon: there was a sense that this place had been lived in at some point.

Corvayne turned a corner and saw another large plaza, this one mostly recessed down from the street to look out at the endless dark blue void. The street curved around the space, branching off to two more streets. Three sets of stairs let one walk down from the street to a large fountain, empty but still bearing the mosaic pattern at it's dry bottom. The overall size of the open space was larger then the one at the entrance, and even had a large patch of overgrown grass that must have been a park. Statues on pillars dotted the perimeter. There was a lumpy hill in the park... Corvayne backed up, his breath catching.

Curled up on the patch of parkland was a green dragon, this one at least thirty feet long. The scales however were dull green, mint rather then leaf green, and it had huge wounds and any number of weapons were literally stuck into it. Corvayne looked and saw that those wounds were not leaking blood. He relaxed a little as he realized the lump was dead. Or undead. Looking at it, he noticed a chest that the dragon had laid it's head on before it died.

Corvayne was many things, but stupid was never one of them. A chest? Under it's head? Yeah that's a trap. If the dragon didn't turn out to be undead (the obvious one), then there being something in the courtyard that would attack when he went for the chest. Maybe some of the stone figures in the plaza were golems?

Sitting and observing, he spotted something coming into the plaza from the other side: A pair of huge shambling hooded figures, as wide and thick as they were tall. One was carrying what looked like a battle axe, the other a nasty hooked polearm. Given both the long claw-like hands and one wore a loop of skulls around it's neck Corvayne decided diplomacy would probably be a waste of time. He felt they were both strong: even as goofy as the tent sized robes they wore looked, he could tell from how they moved that they were more agile then the bulky appearance would lead one to believe. Perhaps they were undead as well: he could see stitching on one's arms. He thought about how he'd fight: he could go up onto the roof and take one down quickly with [Leap Strike] then just fight the other. But that could wake the dragon...

A feeling of alarm came over him and he dove forward to the side and turned, seeing a huge form of one of the guards lining up what would have been a swing to his exposed neck. From this vantage point he could see under the hood: the creature had no face aside from a bony pertubing mouth: Something like four elbows put together with missing and broken teeth. The creature looked half dead but only stopped a moment when Corvayne moved, emerging from the alley way it had been in and coming at Corvayne with a furious series of blows. Corvayne noticed it's robe was twitching with unseen limbs: it explained the gliding.

The good news was that it telegraphed it's attacks, overhead chops brisk but full of wasteful movement and often taking a moment after a missed swing to revert to a standing ready position before moving in to try to strike again. The bad news was that Corvayne could see that the other two had spotted him and soon he'd have three large faceless guards trying to hack him apart. So the next time it swung in a brutal over head chop he drew the rapier and stepped to the side while activating [Cross Skill: Juxtapose]. The drain was much higher then it had been on smaller targets, so he did his best to make the next attack work: a barrage of [Backstab] with the foil made a wonderful sewing machine meets machine gun noise. The cloth back of the monster was shredded and chips of bone flew out as melon sized holes formed in the creature's dead flesh. The shards of bone forced Corvayne to back off: in pulverizing the zombie he had sent shards of bone flying everywhere with one leaving a stinging cut on his forehead and a few scraping his arms. The robe gone he could see the creature had at least three or four human forms twisted and sewn together to form something like a zombie braid, further torn up by his attack. The creature didn't respond to the attack besides to start twisting to swing at Corvayne again.

He considered barraging it again but he saw the other two would be on him in seconds and he didn't want to fight a three way battle with these monsters. Holding the rapier he timed a leap over a low swing and started running for the street. A fourth guard was waiting as he came around the bend, and Corvayne had only a moment to try to evade before he was hit by what felt like a cannonball to his leg. Instantly he could feel bone cracking as he collapsed, jagged spiking pain making him cry out. Only instincts saved him as he felt danger and rolled. He didn't have time to think about how much it hurt as adrenaline kicked in. He wasn't sure if it was his knee or hip. He forced himself to keep rolling then try to stand up. He got to a half knee before he tried to stand and toppled to the side.

Half prone he rolled again, feeling the wind of that fourth guard's mace moments before stone clanged like the hammer of a god slammed into it. Corvayne willed his shadow limb to try to help him up as the guard lifted the mace for a swing and he felt the tendrils pull him on his back like a spider. This moved him only a few feet away on the ground as the mace crashed into where he was again. He let the rapier fall into a whispy limb and drew his spear, then used it to push himself standing while using the spear as a crutch with both hands. He hopped away on one leg as the same monster smashed overhead where he had just been. There was no way past the four guard to the street, but he could go down into the plaza... near where the dead dragon was.

With no choice but to either be cut down by guards or roll down the stairs, he gripped his spear and lept onto the thankfully smooth stone railing and slid down, causing untold agony both from step after step hitting his sides and when he hit his ribs on a stone decoration at the bottom. He wanted to just crumple up but he pushed himself to get up, keep going. He had bought a few feet, but he could see the guard already turning to line himself to go down the stairs. He started hobbling with his spear again, eyes watering as each little thump jolted his leg. He could see the guards gliding down the stairs in a line. He should have brought potions. He was doing the math then, seeing the guard striding across the plaza: in ten seconds or so on open ground they'd be on him in a line. He cut across to the pillars that surrounded the park then curved around the pillar. He forced his attention to his shadow hand, one hand holding his spear the other drawing the dagger. He pointed with his offhand and squeezed the dagger's pommel, and a torrent of fire shot forward and started the dry brush into a torrent of fire. The moonlight vanished in an instant, flames whipping through the park. Corvayne kept moving and felt the ground shift through his boot as he hobbled at the stairs with the ignited park behind him but he had no time to look, pushing himself with his spear up the stairs in a barely controlled forward fall, both arms pushing himself forward using his spear.

Then there was a roar, and he turned and saw that in addition to 4 flaming monsters lining up 20 steps behind him, the dragon had awaken and was snapping at the fire, then turned it's empty eyes to Corvayne. Oh he was double dead. He kept pumping his spear and hopping up a few more stairs, stopping when he felt the heat of the burning monster behind him. He dropped to his back, zombie towering over him as he took his spear in both hands and leaned forward to jab his spear betweent he front legs of the advancing monster in a desperate last ditch attempt to knock the monster off balance: [Cross Skill: Reap] activated as his tip touched the back leg of the monster with it's mace overhead, reap pulling the leg inwards at the right time for the monster to start toppling. There was a moment where the flaming monster looked like it might balance with it's mace wavering above it's head but then it's flailing pulled it back and the monster fell back into the next guard. The whole mass of tumbling burning flesh rolled into the lower plaza as Corvayne pushed himself onto his belly and started crawling up the stairs, spear in hand as he used his elbows to pull himself over the rough stone as the smell of smoke mixed with a horrific burning smell of the long dead. He felt every stair as he pulled himself forward and finally up onto the higher level road. No safe places. He thought again that he was likely dead. In moments the dragon would surge over the railing from the lower floor and snap him in two.

He wished for some scrap of better luck as he pulled himself to lean against the stone railing along the stairway. He pulled his cloak over himself and tucked against the protective half wall, gripping the collar to shift the cloak to the same color as the stone at his back and cobblestone under him. His leg throbbed as he shifted weight onto that side and Corvayne bit his lip not to let a groan escape. His world now was the leg alternating radiating pain and twitching. He focused on mental steps of the dance to help his pain. He visualized the dance, how his body should move. He tried to think of his legs as whole, part of him. He was part of the spear. Then he shifted to his belly and breathed, easy, even breaths as he pushed forward. A spear goes forward.

His ragged breathing quieted a little to his own ears, but was still peals of thunder to him for three long breaths as he breathed in, moved, breathed out, moved. He then felt his shadowy limbs swirling then moving to a fine mist. Then he heard fighting, the dragon roaring, and sounds of things being flung around. No voices: his friends would have said something. Corvayne spotted an open door across the street and crawled along the ground now with it as his goal. His cloak would match the grounds colors, and the bright fire from the park was lighting up the upper half of the buildings with red light. As the fighting finished he forced himself to keep a steady pace through the pain to the doorway. The home he was in was full of broken pottery and had an exit out to the alleyway. Hide here, or try to sneak out? The smoke helped, but he didn't know if the undead could just smell the living through it. Or could see his life force. He decided to keep moving: his only hope was to get out of the plaza and pray the dragon didn't know exactly where he was. He crawled, not trusting his spear to keep him quiet but still gripping it in one of his hands. Even when he wasn't touching it, his leg felt like it was tearing itself apart. He avoided the chunks of pottery. Maybe the dragon hadn't been looking at him with it's empty eyes...

There was a roar and a crash that knocked him over again. Glancing over his shoulder he saw one of the walls behind him collapsed in a rolling pile of dust as a dragon claw slammed through it: the monster had simply rammed itself into the next house over. Corvayne pulled himself to his feet with his spear and hobbled while the noise of bricks settling and wood falling would cover him as he slid around the door and leaned against the wall. From inside the house there was a low rumble, then crashing a little further and he felt the wall at his back shake. He hobbled across the alley to another door and crept in. This was a shop with a counter of faded wood, empty shelves, and another door out to the plaza. He risked slowly looking out the front door, not seeing any of the guards. He slowly looked around the edge and moved his head back when he saw the two hind legs of the dragon pulling the beast out of a building. He waited: once he heard another crash he'd have a few moments while the dragon was destroying a building to try to make it to the next home. There was the sound from the home he had just left of something crashing into it and he did an awkward one legged jaunt out that door and started along the wall to the next door. Four more buildings and he could get to the street back to his friends. If he got back he'd never try to run off again. How many times had he read it in books and thought that someone was an idiot for going off on their own?

He nearly swore aloud when he saw the next shadowed doorway was a recessed closed door. He pushed himself to it anyway and using his one good leg and spear did his best to to make his profile as thin as possible. In his mind he begged the insane undead dragon to not see him. Please don't pick this house next. The beast, as if hearing that thought, plowed into the store he just left. He started hobbling as soon as he heard the crash, trying not to trip in his haste out in the open. His heart sank when he saw another closed door the next door down. He didn't dare go back: The monster was just going down the line and he could see over his shoulder it was going to be shaking the destroyed building off itself in a moment. Corvayne then saw a stone bench on the open side of the street and aimed for it, ignoring how he was likely maming his leg to roll under it and pull his cloak tight, willing his shadows to hide him. He rubbed the hood he had been wearing for good luck.

He saw the titanic dead leg of the dragon set itself next to his bench. He was face down, and turning his eyes he could see out of the corner of his cape another leg. Would it pull him out? Or just pulverize the bench?

He wondered if Wick would be sad when he didn't come back.

Then both legs hurdled the dragon forward. It was far away now, having picked a building at random it seemed. It meant he was safe under the bench. The word safe nearly had him laughing until he caught where the dragon had crashed into: The next two buildings it had smashed while looking for him had collapsed into piles of rubble six feet high blocking a street out. The street that was his only way back. Climbing up and over would put him out in the open for at least a few minutes. The dragon could charge then crush him before he had made it five feet over that pile. With a sinking heart he realized he was trapped in the Plaza with a broken leg and an insane dragon.