Scouting the remains (Epilogue of "End of the Line")

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mythic

Knight
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Calgary Staff
Ziblis flitters about after rifting into an area near the Breach. Coming in from the South he begins to see the smoke and smells the burning of timber and other materials. He begins at Ulrich's Stand, the vast open field just to the edge of the Breach, it's charred and blackened grass, along with melted sand now turned to black glass steam in the cold winter air, a testament to the intensity of the heat of the Dragon's breath. Looking towards the East, he can see a line of scorch marks heading in the direction of the Observatory. That will be his next stop, he knows, but for now, to see if it is safe to scout the remains of the area.

He turns invisible out of instinct, but quickly realizes the futility of such an action when it comes to the keen senses of a Dragon. Especially one as old as Culdranth, the Great Conflagration. "If I get caught upwind of him, I'm as good as dead" the little red imp mutters as he begins to slowly fly up the hill and into the Commons.

"Or what's left of the Commons" Ziblis gasps as he crests the hill. Lay barren before him is what was once the Breach. Fires still burn and lick the bare timbers that was once the Howling Crag's Rest. "Wow, Az'Caine's gonna be pissed." he mutters under his breath. The Sanctum Penta, it's stone walls now crumbled and smashed into near dust, and the Earth Weavers lodge a smoking pile of timber. Ziblis can smell the chemicals that were burnt away still lingering on the ground. Clover's Silver B&B now lay in ruins as well as Yetta's Pleasure Palace. All reduced to ash from the Dragon's fire.

The mighty tavern, once protected from Flame by the ArchMage after he nearly burnt it down when some foul mouthed barbarian insulted him, had it's protectives stripped away and then sundered by the claws and destroyed by the breath of the Ancient One.

Scanning the remainder of the Breach yields more of the same result. All the barracks have been razed to the ground. And even the mighty front gates, built from the magical wood supplied by Count Wheatley are nothing more than ashes scattering in the wind.

"Everything is gone." the little imp states to know one in particular. The ground beneath his beating wings stays blackened and steaming as the snow and freezing cold tries to lay claim to it and fails. Even flying a couple feet off the ground, Ziblis can feel the heat, something he is normally accustomed to, and he dare not land upon it.

Taking one last look around and remembering what once was, the Imp feels a profound sadness knowing this is likely the last time he, or anyone, will set foot in Parson's Breach again.
 
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