THE QUEST FOR THE GYGAXIAN DICE

Ah, Boston. A truly remarkable city. Known as the starting point for the American revolution, one would be surprised by how little things actually happen here. In terms of large events, Chicago and LA, hell especially New York, are far more likely to be the targets of metahuman activity.

That changed two days ago. All of Boston was transformed into a Tolkien nerds wet dream. Ogres roaming the street, open markets, dragons flying through the air. People sparring with swords and shooting arrows… truly, a spectacle. If the people weren’t forced into participating against their will, it might even be fine.

Two days ago the city became Fairy Land. 1 and a half days ago the first report from the Occult Regulation Bureau got back to the general hero community and called for action. 1 day ago it was discovered that you couldn’t enter without playing by Eugene’s rules. Or as he likes to be called now… Maldeth the Black.

He’s positioned himself as a Dark God, handing out quests at random and smiting those who speak poorly about him. Eugene is careful about his domain. If a “player” breaks character, they’re thrown out of his game.

Unfortunately for Maldeth… Heroes aren’t always fools.

The Old South Meeting house has always been a place for staging a rebellion. For a certain French Princess, this couldn’t be more true. Andrea Beinheim sat in full plate armor, white hair cascading down her shoulders as she scanned the room for fellow “PCs”. She had a plan for defeating Eugene…

ORB had given responding heroes a pamphlet explaining what they might be looking for. The Hellbound Grimoire and the Dice of Gygax. They weren’t sure which, if either, of the artifacts caused the chaos but they were pretty sure that destroying them - or at least taking them away from Eugene - was the best option for defeating him.

Andrea just needed a party to embark on…


THE QUEST FOR THE GYGAXIAN DICE!

"I'm just saying. They didn't ask us to come here, and deal with this. You heard about it from that magic peddler who gets reports from the ORB. The Queens and Kings haven't asked us to step in yet."

"We were already here. Not to mention, he's throwing the Balance off. Why not be proactive for once?" growled the man as he pushed his way past a stumbling drunk and into the "tavern". He shrugged his shoulders slightly, to settle the wizards robes more fully on himself and frowned. "Blasted magic is interfering with the mobility. There are few things that can mess with one of Merlins artifacts. And you're not worried at all?"

"Not really. I'm Immortal," came the disembodied voice from the Staff.

Merri grunted again, before glancing around.

Drunk, drunk, drunk, tavern wench, barkeep, French woman in full plate, drunk, dru- French woman in full plate?

Merris eyes focused on the woman and he made his way over, using the Staff and his own strength to push past the other tavern patrons. He stopped at the womans table and leaned on his staff, staring down at her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, tapping one of the chairs with the Staff.

"Hey!"

June wasted to time to get into character to infiltrate the Boston area. With help from a Kiwi agent in ORB, a "character sheet" was quickly put together, and the affiliated hero briefed on what had to be done. The agent's house nearby luckily happened to have some polynesian weapons and effects.

And so Dragon Girl was transformed into Junia of the Sea, a barbarian hero hailing from an island peoples far beyond the ocean. Her alienware had transformed to items not native to her character's backstory; a suit of chainmail to protect her, an assembling shield that would give her free hand when not deployed, and sturdy winged boots, that granted limited flight. Over her ensemble though, she wore shark hide, studded with razor sharp teeth; and a traditional sarong, embroidered with patterns to complete her getup. At her sides she carried ironwood dagger and a shaped stone handaxe, while her main weapon was a brutal ironwood club, one third entwined with rope grip, while its other end was studded with row upon row of shark teeth. Her hair was braided up, she wore several pearl and greenstone jewels, and her face bore tribal tatoos of the pacific islands, marking her as a hunter and warrior.

Seeing as she wasn't ejected immediately after crossing the mysterious magical forest bordering this reality and the mundane one, Junia surmised her outfit was deemed appropriate. She found herself on a road, with several panicked civilians beset by a giant insect. She wasted no time in dispatching the giant hornet terrorizing the civilians, er, peasants. It was also a test of her abilities- while she still had great physical strength, she could feel the insect's blow, its stinger buckling her shield. Smashing through it took significant effort, but her shark tooth club proved a fine weapon for the purpose of ripping and tearing.

The grateful but unwilling NPC's informing her of the Old South meeting house, where a noble lady sought heroes, and a bounty on this hornet could be claimed.  

And so, retaining her significant stature, wary eyes immediately glanced from their drinks at the newcomer. Junia was a wild woman with the bloody sack at her side, and armed to the teeth. She deposited her weapons at the cloakroom, went to the bounty board, confirmed a hornet bounty, and proceeded to the bounty master, who produced a handful of silver coin for Junia. If this place needed alternate money, maybe it would be good to have some.

"I'm here to for someone who needs helping hands to solve a.. 'problem'." June asked the barkeep.

The "barkeep", a bartender in real life who'd ended up doing the exact same job but gaining 40 pounds a bald head, motioned towards Andrea's table.

A tavern wench passed by June, who carried a tray of ales. Strange. June wasn't exactly thirsty, but she had this urge to drink, so she took a big swig- another thing not usual behavior, being normally a casual sipper of alcohol.

She approached, in Andrea's view as to not startle her. Something about this setup, meeting in a tavern, seeking a quest, seemed so... formulaic. "...I have it on good authority, that this is the place to look for trouble." She said, her voice lower and huskier than her usual tone.

The power was overwhelming here.

‘Twas a tavern, not unexpected. All the greatest stories started in a tavern. Were she to think, it was unsure how she got here, or where even here was, but she knew she had a task … ack, this was swill. The bottle of watered-down mead was subsequently chucked at the wall, liquid and glass flying everywhere, and the girl - her unnatural beauty seeming to make her glow in the dark, only enhanced by the black and gold armor she wore - stood from the chair, the chair squeaking unnaturally against the floorboards. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they were designed to make noise any time they were scooted backwards with intent.

It was quite obvious why she was here; two individuals gathered around a woman with white hair wearing armor nearly as fancy as Amelia’s own, though it could use some more mobility. She had watched as one who could only be a caster of some sort, though he bore a remarkable resemblance to the Archpriests of her church, walked up to the European, quickly followed by a gorgeous girl in chainmail armor. For some reason, she felt compelled to come up to them as well, though she fought this urge to watch for a moment, leaning against the bar. She knew the bartender was giving her uneasy looks; it was probably due to to the weapons on her back. A massive battleaxe and shield carried by a woman barely approaching five and a half feet would be enough to unnerve anyone.

Finally, though, Amelia approached them; the third to do so. ‘Twas like old stories, she could hear them, whispered by the ancestors of her past; legendary heroes sent to slay a dragon, or stop an unkillable god. She loved those stories growing up, and even now oft repeated them for the local children. But she could delay no more; if this were like the stories of old, it would do best not to delay. If they taught one thing, ‘twas that destiny does not pause for man nor monster.

”Can you feel the magic? ‘Tis dark, like the onset of apocalypse. Is it not beautiful?.”

The question was directed at Merri and Andrea only, ignoring the tall woman in chainmail; if they did not possess powerful magic, Amelia was simply not interested. Her armor seemed rather impractical for the battlefield, though no one could deny its make; though her chest was protected by thick half-plate over a chainmail shirt, her thighs were left bare, only protected by metallic greaves, and her arms were similar; she wore no helmet, letting her ashen grey hair frame her face naturally. Red eyes peered at the trio, arm propped on her hip as she waited for their response.

”And you.” This time her gaze fell directly onto the French knight, narrowing subtly, taking in all her details. ”... what is Chosen doing in a place like this? These going on, are you responsible?”

When Lennan came to Boston, he was hoping for a simple time. His mother would show her paintings and he would go around down town and see if there was anything worth looking at. As his luck stood that wasn’t the case. Instead he found himself in the equivalent of a fantasy world. Luckily so far it wasn’t a Game of Thrones world, otherwise he had the feeling he would’ve died of some kind of pox by now. What did change however was that his powers were working a little differently. He didn’t know why but they had a different feeling to them. This alone was enough to annoy him, but the true aggravation came with him nearly being smashed flat by an ogre.

You heard that right. Well you read that right.

Not a Shrek kind of ogre either but one that was fine with smashing you flat. Can’t be in his swamp when you’re the consistency of jelly. So for the first few hours Lennan found himself fleeing from an ogre after realizing that its club indeed hurt and he wasn’t nigh indestructible compared to giant hunks of wood. The upside was that he healed a little quicker than normal. What kind of logic was that? Slipping through the streets now turned into a role-players wet dream he looked for some kind of direction.

Honestly his experience with D&D was minimal though his mom said he was a quick learner.  Well, he didn’t know enough about this situation to follow some cliches and get a direction. Otherwise sporty clothes had become leather robes, dyed lightly with seams of pink though his eyed remained the same amber ringed with pink. That much he learned peering into a quasi-murky puddle.  

”Now I’m just hungry. Hope this inn place has any food or anything that’s edible,” He grumbled to himself, complexion turning pink from running around a few city blocks and finally stumbling upon the doorstep of this place. Walking across the crowded tavern he picked out what he assumed was the bar, now eyeing a small gathering of strange individuals. ”You guys know how to get out of here? Feel like I might have gotten stuck in something I have no idea about. Like an episode of Galavant or whatever.” All of them looked older than him, so he hoped they were responsible adult types and not hopelessly incompetent early twenty somethings.

Andrea smiled to herself as the first of the heroes arrived. She knew that if she just sat in a tavern long enough, someone would arrive. The man was dressed in fine robes. She could sense powerful strings attached to him. Four green strings in fact. That was new. When he tapped the staff against the chair, a complaint was issued from the room.

”The seat is free,” She took a stab in the dark. ”Wizard, non?” She sipped at her mead and frowned at the sour alcoholic taste. If the water were clean, she may have asked for that instead.

”I believe that you are exactly who I am looking for, wizard…” She gestured for him to give her his name.

The next person to arrive, a statuesque Asian in barbarian leathers made of shark skin and… a very fake spray tan. Andrea sighed and waited for her to approach. ”This is the worst part of setting up a party.” She would whisper to her compatriot. ”The waiting.” The bar  shook a bit, and a small symbol appeared. An O with a slash through it. Clearly the “God” didn’t like her little attempt at comedy.

Andrea glanced up at June, and put on a blank expression. ”Trouble? Oh no, no, no.” She put on her best American accent. ”I am but a humble Paladin. Ready to serve the great god Maldeth in whatever way I can. Why… I was about to set off on a journey to visit the divine palace! Why don’t you join me?” She motioned to the wizard and the barbarian both. ”I am looking for four strong warriors to accompany me on this journey, and you two may just fit the bill!” Andrea was doing her best impression of a lawful stupid Paladin. Hopefully it tricked their host long enough that she could kick his ass.

Andrea would blink as the next woman spoke, she was almost a mirror opposite to Andrea with her black and gold armor. Perhaps more intimidating. She saw another colored string attached to her… yellow. Not as thick, but twice as bright. Strange. When she spoke of the magic in the air, the bar shook and the same symbol that appeared on the table in front of Andrea appeared over the newcomer. Obviously this was a no no subject.

She watched the woman’s gaze track over to her. Chosen? Did she perhaps mean descendant? No. That couldn’t be. She barely even knew what a descendant was herself, let alone how to recognize someone as one. ”I’m afraid I know not what you mean, oh Knight. I am a humble Paladin on a quest to find our mighty God Maldeth to help my village, you see. Perhaps you can join us.”

It was about then that the pink one spoke. She blanched even whiter than she was before. Was he crazy?! Trying to get them all kicked out?! She quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. But nothing happened. She sighed. Oh thank God… That was when one of the tavern wenches spoke in an incredibly annoying tone.

“Greetings, mortals! It is I, Maldeth, using this feeble mortal coil to speak with you. Are you impressed, maidens?” The woman asked, posing seductively for June, Andrea, and Amelia. “Perhaps I shall take you to my castle and show you a good time.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Andrea gagged, but managed to hide it well. “Eugene-“ She started, before lightning cracked and the tavern shook. “MALDETH. Consider yourself lucky that you’re pretty. Anyone else would be outta here already.”

Andrea sighed. Maldeth… may we speak… out of character for a moment?” Andrea asked with the patience only a Saint and a person who has had to deal with people all their life could muster. He nodded, but then motioned to Andrea and her mouth disappeared. “But I want to hear from the rest of you first… the “Paladin” has been doing all the talking so far. What of you, Merriman of the Blackstaff? Or June the Dragon Girl? Amelia of the Shadows of the Pale Flame? Lennan O’Connor? Don’t worry, Lennan, your NPC restrictions have been lifted. You can keep my gifts, but now you’re just like the rest of these schlubs otherwise. So speak.”

Merri lowered himself into the chair, keeping his hand wrapped around the Staff as he did. He raised an eyebrow at the womans question, and then shrugged, before glancing down at himself, and then back at her.

"Était-ce les robes qui l'avaient donné?" he asked, before offering a hand.

"Merriman Davies. The Blackstaff," he stated.

"The Blackstaff," came the voice of the Staff.

Merri opened his mouth to say something else, when a large Asian barbarian of a woman barged into the tavern, followed by an armor-clad woman, and... a teenager? He frowned slightly, his mouth closing, and he spent a moment listening. A sharp shake of his head at the "Knight" and Merri gestured with the Staff.

"It is... something," he offered. "Beautiful is not exactly the word I would use, though."

His eyes darted around, taking in the "tavern" and the "patrons". A bastardization of the stories Merri had heard as a child. The brain child of someone who spent too much time fantasizing about fantasy. For a moment, White Fire edged along the tip of the Staff, before Merri ended it, pushing the impulse to end this farce down. He opened his mouth to speak, when one of the tavern wenches began speaking. Merri turned his eyes towards her and his frown deepened.

He stood, and faced her, Staff in hand.
"Eugene Benowitz! You've upset the Balance of Magic, and changed the fabric of reality. Cease your machinations at once, and I won't have to come to your basement and drag you before the Kings and Queens of the Fae."

For a moment, the robes billowed around him, shifting color to pure white, as did his hair. His eyes flared with golden light, and then settled to a soft amber. White Fire gathered at the edge of the Staff, as Black Ice crackled at Merlins feet, and Lightning Wreathed his hands, crawling up his arms.

"We're gonna fuck you up, little boy."

June weighed the other gathered 'party members', if they were even a group at this point.

The two 'casters', it seemed, didn't much concern themselves with her. One with the talking staff, and the one who declared Andrea a 'Chosen'. Perhaps their interactions would come later.

Andrea seemed a bit off, talking about serving Maldeth, the alias of Eugene, the instigator of the Boston incident. Rules are rules, and she played her role to a tee. "Truly? But I have heard this Maldeth is a capricious deity. As cruel as the kraken gods of my homeland, and a practitioner of the black arts to boot. I would have words with him or his thralls."

Lennan seemed more down to earth and didn't quite follow 'da rules', still, this meant he awareness of his situation and seemed eager to leave. She waved him over, and worked that pacific islander accent. "Welcome stranger. Why are you eager to get out when you just arrived? Come introduce yourself, break bread and drink ale at our table. Perhaps you have a tale of yourself to tell us."

Just then, something unusual happened, and June had to witness one of the NPC's siezed by some foreign power. It was Maldeth/ Eugene, using the poor girl as a voice of the legion. She wanted to help, but waited and watched first what he had to say.

June wanted to reach out to Eugene first, to offer an olive branch. But the unspoken rule of 'initiative' meant she went after the staff wielder. Things became urgent when Maldeth offered them to break character. This might be the only chance to resolve it peacefully.

"...Not the wisest move to threaten him when he has the upper hand." She muttered, possibly only Andrea capable of hearing her misgivings on opening with a threat.

To emphasize her position, she imposed herself between Merriman and Eugene's host body. Using her training as a psychologist, she spoke in a calm, reasonable tone. She opened her hands and showed them to signal non-hostility. There was a helping of irony in the blood soaked barbarian being the one offering peace and understanding.

"...Eugene... I am Dragon Girl. I don't know exactly why you've decided to do what you've done to Boston, but there are a lot of innocent people who are caught up in this. But I'm here to help. Not just the people, but you too, if you let me. Let's resolve this peacefully and I promise, I will get you help. I know what it's like to be angry Eugene, to lash out at the world. The best thing we can do is listen and understand... whatever it is that's bothering you. You don't need to be the bad guy today, Eugene. Please come with us, peacefully."

Another newcomer, though at least this one looked like he came from a civilized world.

And then, the pretext. Amelia could only roll her eyes at all the talk. Perhaps this individual was not a Chosen One; the children of the gods in her stories were fearless, peerless warriors who quelled before no threat. Just because a lowly virgin got godly power, this one decided to beat around the bush. The bar shaking just pissed her off, a rolling growl escaping her throat. She hated bluster, and this Eugene - or Maldec, or small dick, or whatever he’s going by - was all bluster.and no bite. If he showed up here, she would-

And then, he showed up here. Despite her initial surprise, and the magic she felt rolling off him, she made no indication to turn to him; why? Well, someone like that thrives on attention, its the only reason to do anything like this, and Amelia wasn’t about to feed into any of that nonsense. Slowly and purposefully, she downed her ale, grimacing as it burned a hole through her throat. Serious swill, though that was par for the course for the human world. One of them began to talk, several quips were throne, and honestly Amelia felt right at home. Now all that remained was for someone to attack without provocation.

The mug in her hand suddenly shattered and Amelia whirled, face contorted in rage; her massive poleaxe leapt to her hand, and she was going to bring it down in a massive arc to cleave this wannabe-god in two before she felt a hand on her shoulder; ‘twas ‘The Paladin’, as had taken to calling herself. Only the force of the hand kept Amelia from attacking their aggressor, but the same could not be said for her expression; bright red eyes, staring at Eugene with nothing but disgust, as if he were something slimy that she scraped off her shoe.

”You are filth.” She shrugged her shoulder aggressively, shaking off the white-ones hand. ”And you are no god. You not one of the Pantheon. You do not deserve to wear the title. Were I am from, you would be stripped naked and flogged in the streets, your entrails fed to the rats for even daring to suggest you were on the par with the greatest of us.” Her accent grew thicker through the rage, practically spitting the words. ”And no one would ever go home with you to be disappointed for thirty seconds.”

She was very quickly growing beyond what her body could handle in terms of rage, her hands shaking from want to strangle this pathetic fool.

As soon as Lennan spoke, he could feel the eyes all turn towards him. Most bulging in fear as if he had said some kind of hardcore slurs rather than simply asking for clariufication on the situation. Including the paladin woman. Well, he assumed she was some kind of paladin from the general garb, yet then again he didn’t know exactly what he was dealing with. The city had just gone from usual urban hustle to fantasy adventure, without even an explanation on what was happening. That was when a mouthy kind of guy named Maldeath appeared, sounding more cocky nerd than terrifying god of death. Like seriously, what kind of god named themselves that? Could’ve been Thanatos or something, but no it was Maldeath.

The young man turned on his heels, eyeing up the man made god who had addressed them all in the airiest and fakest godly tone. ”So this is what passes for a god these days?” he muttered to himself, stroking his chin and eyeing the man who was both Eugene and Maldeath. The second was probably a fake name. Okay, he could understand wanting to change that name but the new one was equally bad. Looking around to the others, he wondered what would happen with all the good shit being thrown around. This Merrin guy, as well as the others though he didn’t know too much about them. Hell, Lennan didn’t know anyone so he just watched it all transpire. Well he did feel something bad was about to happen when everyone began to berate the being known as Maldeath.

Even if he were likely a nerd with too much power, he was also a nerd with too much power. Not a good combination really. That was enough to cause the young man to slowly back pedal, feeling the spark of energy race through his body when the god entity said that he was given NPC status. Kings and queen of fey were brought into this, and he clutched the staff topped with  a Pink diamond tightly. The only thing keeping him from running was a feeling in the pit of his stomach. As if someone were telling he would be okay.”I don’t know what your plan is but we’re going to stop you. Evil god or whatever you might be.”

Andrea grabbed at her face as she felt her mouth disappear, her eyes were panicked but not nearly so much as when the party started openly mocking Eugene. She knew for a fact that that wasn't going to end well for anyone, and she wanted to avoid that. She started rapidly waving her hands, as the bar maids face turned more and more red with anger.

"You underestimate my abilities, Merriman?!" The room once again clapped with thunder as a pale, balding, greasy man with a scraggly beard and ill fitting robes appeared. His potbelly was wrapped so tight in a silken red and black robe with a dragon design on it, that one could nearly see his bellybutton. The poor abused garment was also stained with ketchup and mustard stains, and what Andrea desperately hoped was gravy.

"Very well then," He waved his hand and the life descendants mouth was returned to her. Andrea turned and glared at the rest of them. "So you piss off the God, then when he appears in front of us to give us a quest; you taunt him more." She said in a huff. "Except you, Barbarian. You actually did surprisingly well. He might have summoned something terrifying to destroy us instead of just appearing in the flesh."

Eugene's face brightened, and Andrea's face fell. "Oh no..." Eugene snapped his fingers, and the room, no the whole area changed. Now they were in a coliseum. Facing off against exactly what Andrea didn't want to see. A dragon the size of a house. She sighed. Eugene's voice boomed across the arena. "LADIES, AND GENTLEMEN. WELCOME TO THE FIRST EVER TOURNAMENT OF HEROES!" He said, summoning the barmaid to his side... in a bikini... feeding him a banquet family dinner of chicken fingers and mac and cheese. What a fucking dork...

Andrea pulled out her sword. "THESE FINE... omf that's good. THESE FINE HEROES WILL BE TESTED ON THEIR BATTLE PROWESS! THEY WILL PERISH, BUT IT SHOULD BE AT LEAST INTERESTING!"

With that, the dragon let loose a torrent of flame.

"He's not God. He's playing a poor imitation of one. Like that face in that sci-fi movie from the '80's," growled Merri, as he shifted, holding the Staff crossways across his body.

"I say we burn his face, and see how 'Godly' he is then."

"Shut up, you. We have enough problems," remarked the wizard, as he eyed Eugene.

He lifted the Staff and gathered Flames at the tip. Just as he was about to launch them at Eugene, the world shifted. Merri groaned and stumbled for a moment, the Flames sputtering a dying.

"That's cheating!"

"SHUT UP, STAFF!" screamed Merri, before he dropped the end of the Staff into the ground to steady himself. He glared up at Eugene and opened his mouth to speak.

"Anyone smell brimstone?"

Merri paused, and then turned his head, finally focusing on the dragon before them.

"By the Fae... SCATTER!" The Staff tilted and Flames lashed out, meeting the dragon fire in an explosion of magical energies.

"Oh, don't like that."

Merri snarled and pushed the Staff forward slightly. "How do you manage to sound queasy? You don't have a stomach."

"Magic."

Being a barbarian warrior made things easy for June. Suffered a failure of diplomacy? It was smashing time. She watched as Eugene used his… control over the environment to transport them into an arena, the power mad sorcerer completing it with a pleasing servant feeding him snacks. Oh, and there was a red dragon in front of them. Alarm bells rang in June’s mind, as red meant flaming attack, which poured from its mouth soon enough.

June ducked, covered and rolled away from her group, to avoid the brunt of the fire attack. Her shield deploys just in time to be glanced by the flame, losing a mere two panels to the fire, June herself feeling uncomfortably hot. She took damage, now she ran right at the Dragon's flanks, hoofing it a tad faster than your average adventurer.

June brought out her big weapon, the sharky great club. She also worked herself into a rage. “RAAAA!” The smell of ozone began to permeate around June, as her eyes glowed with primal energy. As her rage channeled the power of the storm into her arms, her weapon also crackled with electricity. She came up to the beast's side, and began swinging at its hind leg's ankles and knees. “FIGHT ME!”

The world warped around them, the pathetic, wannabe god that had become Eugene altering reality as they knew it. An Arena much like she knew and was familiar with in her own country formed around them, their insults seeming to rifle the metaphorical feathers of whatever he was calling himself. It didn’t faze Amelia at all; magic was Amelia’s bread and butter, raised by it, trained in it practically from forth. Her ancestors were screaming at her for victory, her blood boiling, filling with the magic of the arena. The pretense of kindness was gone, her cloak covering her armor tossed to the side, revealing the somewhat scantily-clad armor - bare thighs and midriff seemed to leave gaps in the armor, but it left her range of motion completely free - and the shield, which was raised just in time to block the dragon fire.

It didn’t so much as scratch the Valyrian metal, the shield glowing every color of the rainbow as the magic hit split around the aegis. Viciousness swirled inside her, reflected on her face in a strangled grin as the massive longaxe seemed to leap into her hand. She hadn’t gone dragon hunting in an age; the thrills and memories filled her with a sort of savage joy, guiding her hand. A roar of primal fury carried her feet through the air, leaping at the dragons neck; vines seemed to cover the black weapon. If the blade hit, not only would it dig deep into the dragons nails, her massive strength and the impenetrable sharpness of the weapon slicing through scale and sinew, but vines would burst out of the ground, pinning the dragon’s neck.