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Thoom

Thunder pealed out over the fields, following the flash of light brightening the nearby tree line. The few farmers straggling after the long workday looked up into the sky, dark and ominous clouds rolling in.

As dusk descended on the small community the population sealed shut their windows and doors in preparation for the coming storm. Barns were closed and chained shut, stormproof shutters rolled down from the tops of windows where they're neatly bound when not in use. The dry heat of midsummer always gives way to humidity and storms as the harvest approaches.

Within the depths of the forest small animals stole into their burrows and dens, readying for the onslaught of rain and wind. Many storms have visited this community at dusk, and equally many must have hit just as the sun set, but few storms began their snarling march with a bolt of lightning touching down in the forest with such shattering force that it felled several nearby trees. One farmer living on the outskirts of the community and nearest to the tree line, one farmer who just happened to like a good storm and left a window free to watch, saw the bolt of lightning and felt the same echoing boom that rattled the windows of the rest of the community. What this farmer saw; however, that the others didn't was the lights that began after. At first it was written off as a forest fire. Certainly alarming but hardly uncommon. In an area frequented by yearly storms next to a forest the odd lighting strike often set parts of the forest ablaze, the torrential rains making short work of it. These lights were not a forest fire. Oh there was something flaring up now and again, but it had direction. A bright line of flame flashed through the trees, then another, then a small detonation sounding like a miniature lightning bolt. Then he heard the roar. It was quickly overtaken by another peal of thunder, but sure as the stubble on his face was the call of a large animal. It sounded hurt, like a bear caught in a bear trap, but this farmer had heard bears and wolves and even a mountain lion once, or so he claimed to any who'd listen, but this wasn't like any animal he had heard before. Quimby decided that he had heard and seen enough of this storm and closed his window, latching it in place, and then headed to his bed where he kept his woodcutting axe and a hunting dagger for such emergencies that he found himself alone for. He fell asleep that night with difficulty.

Charzore snarled, the creature between him and his way out monstrous, but not something he couldn't handle. At least, not in his younger years. Not when he had a full stomach and a full night's rest. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. This frigid and shadowy hell he had fought his way through for decades now didn't allow for safety enough to sleep and find full meals. He stared down the crooked blade pointed at him.

"I thought you were going to show me the way out." Charzore growled, his brass scaled tail flicking behind him in agitation. His draconic form was hunched and on edge, ready to spring at a moment's notice. The large, leathery wings that ran from his shoulder blades down the length of his tail fanned slightly to give him an edge in mobility.

"And so I did," the grey-skinned humanoid cracked a sharp-toothed and malicious grin at the eight foot tall creature. So much larger than little old he, yet weak enough that just one dagger could put a stop to that glimmer of hope he had so generously given him. There were many rumors about this creature, the hero of some distant and long lost plane. Garna had heard stories of this creature moving swiftly enough that he appeared as only the flash of brass light that glinted off of his scales, but when he had encountered this "hero" all he had found was a damaged and painfully thin bipedal dragon like creature looking for a way out. Garna had managed to trick Charzore into following him to a portal which Garna claimed would bring back to the world he was stranded from. In truth Garna had only heard rumors about this portal and had no idea where it lead, only that few who belonged in this realm, known as the Shadowdark, could pass through it.

"Then why are you standing in my way, with a dagger aimed at me." Charzore was careful to keep Garna in the line of sight of his good right eye, rather than his dead left.

"Ah, you see I've rethought our arrangement. I think it's much more fun to squash that last sliver of hope at ever getting out which you've so stubbornly held on to for far longer than you should. Sixty years? Alone? No that certainly won't do. You were made of stern stuff to make it this far but I see how you move. Even hobbling you keep pace with me, it's obvious that the rumors of your speed were not exaggerated. You were powerful once, but now you've been drained by this place until nothing's left. This portal doesn't lead to your children. It never did. In truth I don't know where it leads, but that doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know that. Watching the last embers of a relic like yourself go out by my hand is simply exquisite!" As he finished his speech, Garna began slowly approaching Charzore bent dagger poised to strike and a look of perverse satisfaction on his face.

Charzore's snarl wavered. So this was it? This portal wasn't the way home, Garna wasn't an unexpected friend in a dark place? He was tired. If his children were even still alive they'd be nearing the end of their life; though he hadn't even seen the halfway mark of his own.

The portal behind Garna gave an unexpected rumble, catching the attention of both contestants in the small drama unfolding before it. The murky and liquidy surface of the portal suddenly flattened and became as reflective as glass, the otherworldly appearance of the clawed and skeletal grey humanoid that was Garna barely showing in contrast to the reflective brass scales of Charzore reflecting clearly in it. Then like smoke clearing from behind glass an image formed in the portal, a forest at dusk just as the sun was setting. Standing in the forest a dozen or so feet away from the portal was a hooded and cloaked figure, with seven canaries sitting atop its shoulders and head. Charzore felt the figure meet his gaze, and he could feel this figure's sorrow as their eyes met. Relief, anger, but most importantly hope filled Charzore all at once. He knew this figure, knew him well, and if he was there then this portal was indeed Charzore's way out, he need only seize it.

Garna made a game of messing with the peoples of this hellscape. He knew well how to read emotions on the faces of most any creature, even ones with snouts and bone (or in this case some kind of brass and bone alloy) and he was not liking what he was seeing. Something had caught Charzore's gaze behind him and the dying and hopeless creature in front of him was quickly beginning to look more and more threatening. It wasn't often that he had an opportunity to kill a legend, and he wasn't happy that it was starting to slip away. With a lunge he slipped forward to take his opportunity before it was gone. The dagger knifed in towards Charzore's exposed chest, and Garna looked up in triumph to watch the light slip from his prey's good eye. It was then that he saw his opportunity had already been lost. As the dagger slammed home Charzore twisted slightly and it glided off of a metallic chestplate, leaving a long wire-thin scratch amongst the many scars and an arcane tattoo. Charzore's maw snapped open and a soft glow came from the back of his throat, glowing brighter and brighter until a roaring, thirty foot long torrent of smokeless flame erupted and immolated Garna. The thin barrier of the portal was breached easily by the flame which reached out towards the figure, who vanished before the fire could reach him. The inferno died and Garna rolled back to escape the burning rags of clothing he wore, and in his panicked flurry rolled through the portal. Charzore would not let this chance slip by and surged through with a flap of his wings.

The storm broke over the forest near the farming community and Quimby's cottage just as a smoking Garna rolled through the mirror like door between the dimensions sputtering curses in some foul tongue. In an instant Charzore was on top of him raking with his claws and snapping at his throat. With a strangled yelp Garna swung frantically with his blade which he had somehow managed to keep through his tumble. He felt the dagger catch in something and heard a howl of pain. Charzore suddenly backing off of him favoring one arm. Breathing heavily Garna scrambled to his feet, readying his dagger for a second assault. The second assault never came; however, as Charzore spat a globe of liquid fire which slammed into Garna's face. Garna staggered, blinded, and tripped over a tree root, falling this time on his bent dagger which punctured a lung. As he lay on the ground desperately gasping for breath, Charzore approached.

"Please... mercy..." he coughed as blood began filling his lung.

"Would you have had any for me?" Charzore growled, looming over his fallen foe

"Yes..."

"Liar. Still, you helped me find a way out from that place, so at least I can end it quickly." and Charzore wrenched the dagger out of Garna's side and stabbed him in the eye, killing him instantly. It was then that he noticed the rain falling. Looking back, Charzore realized that the portal he had come through had vanished, and began going about the business of burying the creature that had meant to kill him as well as holing up in a burrow of his own to tend his wounds and get the first tenuous rest on this plane of existence.