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All eyes, dragon or bandit, were on them.
Munnin handed something to his twin – Knicks figured it was some sort of body part for a ressurection – before he jumped off Roc right at the elder dragon – his magic blade flared, magic energy shot out of his foot as he leaped off of the air like a floor, and he carved his blade clean through the dragon’s left wing – the dragon swivelled, fell, and blew a streak of red flame at the Raven – engulfing him completely as they both fell to the ground. In stunned silence, the twenty remaining drakelings scattered about the lake looked around – the Sirens had snuck off, leaving only Charon, Chief, and three Fallen Rangers to stand off against the swarm of death that approached them.
It was two minutes later that Charon stood alone, blade drawn, the Chief, his last living ally, falling beside him in a cloud of fire.
“Eight left, eh?”
“Eight left ov my siblinks you scum have muhrderet.” the older of the dragons scorned, limping at him and drawing breath.
“I apologise, beast, but if it’s just me left, I’ll be making my escape now.”
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