“My name is Ashmadia. I am power both ancient and unrivaled… as mighty as the heavens and as old as the cosmos. I will not bleed, for I am but strength formless… Feeble things of flesh…you’ve come this far but to fail!”
Shebest 11, 1002 AR
Alowyga Sianama’s lance found the dragon goddess’ heart through the bastion of its scales. The wicked beast’s body wracked with mighty spasms as the death blow twisted deeper. The fearsome scream erupted from its hellish maw and finally it fell to the earth. It lay in the heat of the summer sun outside the gates of the Old Hisrech. Ashmadia’s march upon the Dynast-King was finally ended.
Alowyga ripped her great spear from the dragon’s hide and grimaced, looking about to see her noble compatriots’ bodies lying where they had met death at Ashmadia’s whim. Adrian Haverhill’s small halfling body was scattered about in charred lumps of flesh, every other piece recognizable. Abraham Blasing’s staff stood in the earth, still glowing from the protection spell he had raised early in the conflict, but his body was at its base, scarred from the colossal teeth and claws of Ashmadia. Lady Alcardé’s sword remained in Ashmadia’s right eye socket, but the White Raven’s body was cast out toward the horizon by the mightiest stroke of the dragon goddess’ tail.
Alowyga did not mourn for them, for they had fought bravely and their deeds reaped the greatest reward: the defeat of the abomination known as Ashmadia, dragon goddess queen of Vetalis. She tore out the heart of the beast and dragged the massive thing from the site, hoping the binding power of the Weird of the Witte Wieven would hold Ashmadia’s power outside the mortal coil and forever locked in the Hells of Ashtar.