The adventurers, returning from destroying the ancient portal, find themselves soaring through the blizzard in their gunship. Their armour and weapons are scored and damaged from fighting raised black dragons whose breath drained them of their very life force. As the ship sailed through the clouds, a deafening roar issued from the once-proud headquarters of Lion’s Pride.
The roar was that of the bone dragon, their foe’s great weapon against the small fleet of combat-ready airships held in reserve by the armies of the living. The adventurers looked at each other in trepidation as the roars became closer, as their previous encounter with this dragon ended with their flight. They needed a plan, and they needed one fast.
Brandt, captain in the Lion’s Pride, developed a strategy using the limited resources at hand. He called for all the gunpowder in the ship, and the cannonballs that had yet to be fired. With a mighty crash, the ship slamming to a halt as if yanked back by a huge chain. The front of the ship exploded into splinters and planks as it crashed into an invisible wall of force. Before they could react, the gigantic bone dragon dove at the ship, sweeping overhead and blasting great gusts of sleet and black energy at the deck. The black energy of the breath attack drained the life force from the living, their bodies wracked by pain.
As the dragon swept around for another pass, the party retreated below decks to weather the worst of the breath attacks, preparing to abandon ship at the opportune time. The bone dragon, seeing that its breath no longer had any major affect, dove at incredible speeds straight down at the ship, roaring in rage. It crashed amidships, nearly cracking the wooden airship in two. Its jaws snapped at the party as bone claws raked at the wood. With a hope and a prayer, the group leaped from the ship, abandoning it to its fate. Talyn twisted in the air, his hands gathering energies to forma great ball of fire in his hands before hurling it at the plummeting ship.
With an almighty crash, the ship exploded into splinters, gunpowder launching cannonballs in all directions. The flames washed over the dragon, absorbed by magical shields. The cannonballs, mundane and physical, smashed through the dragon’s defenses and shattered its wings, ribcage, and skull. With a cry of agony and rage, the bone dragon lay enmeshed with the ship as it crashed to the ground, losing cohesion as splintered, shattered bones fell all around.
The adventurers, buoyed by magical flight, quickly flew to take stock of the situation, and shatter any animation that may remain in the desiccated bones. Crush, his purpose given to him by Sickle, immediately leapt forward to smash the blue orb that was the dragon’s heart. His scythe bounced off of it with no effect, cracking the magical steel from the force of the blow. After determining that the bone dragon was indeed dead, the party found themselves in control of the Oracle, an intelligence born from he beginning of time that would answer one single question from a creature to the best of its ability, but no more. They returned to their headquarters in triumph, but with the knowledge that unless they could stop it, the bone dragon would rise again.