The Leviathan
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Fifth Month 292 AC
For three days you work on a plan to snare the Deep Ones who come for their lost kin, for three nights your dreams are all of tactics and the clash of arms to come, by spell upon unseen paths you bring forth the full company that undid the Listener and his foul works to this small hamlet on the rocky inhospitable coast of Crackclaw Point, a settlement otherwise so unremarkable that taxes have not been collected since before the War of the Usurper... Their lord, Eustace Brune of Dyre Den might not even notice its loss for several moon-turns and yet in these scant few days it is made into a battleground such as has not been seen in these lands for many an age.
Runes of power are painstakingly etched upon large flat stones and set about the slumbering horror in an arrow pointed towards the land, some bound with the powers to purge that which is accursed and unnatural others to befuddle the mind. Dany digs deep into the lore Of Tiamat seeking blessings of strength of swiftness and of boldness against the horrors to come. As the sun begins to slip under the horizon on the third day since your fateful loosing of the monster her scales shine no longer silver, but bright as mirrored glass, alive with the ever-shifting colors of magic bound to her call.
Like the war mages of old on the eve of war your company gathers behind a figment of Tyene's conjuring... the simplest and at once most efficacious illusion, absence. As to the village behind you, it readies for a last desperate defense should any of the monsters break through, the boldness of hot-headed youths tempered by having Ser Richard tell them of a few of your more hair-raising misadventures. More than one mother had breathed a sigh of relief on knowing her child is safe as can be in the coming battle.
Sacrificial incense wafts over the lonely rock-strewn beach as Dany burns mirth and sandalwood and other stranger things: roots that burrow into mounts of Dragonglass, 'neath otherworldly flame-shrouded skies. As it rises towards the heavens the ghostly forms of serpentine wyrns coil about each other with eyes glittering like embers.
Lost 5 Gold
Dany's voice echoes with a deep rumble like distant thunder, like the rumble of the deep earth as the skiens of time untangle before her mind.
Ware peril unlooked for, Ether Swimmer, Flesh Twister, Mind Bender,
Ware the flock untended, least all be for naught
Ware the waves last as they were first
Do you change your plans following this divination?
[] Yes
-[] Write in how
[] No
***
Thirtieth Day of the Fifth Month 292 AC
And so you've little to do but wait, spells of power upon your lips, primordial fire gathering in the back of your throat as the air grows tense, like a bow-string about to loose... or snap. Time seems to crawl by as your look fixedly at the lapping of the waves. A feather-light touch that feels unnaturally cold against your scales draws your attention to Glyra... with a smile you push the spell she desires into her keeping.
"Look to the sky!" Garin's call shatters the tense tense silence and all eyes follow his sign. An translucent-white thing floated a full half-mile above the waves. So baffling to the eye are its alien geometries, so uncanny that such a thing can take to the air that in spite of your sharp gaze it takes you many long minutes to realize what you are seeing.
It seems like some gargantuan creature of the deeps, half stinging jellyfish and half octopus. Long muscular tentacles grow in clumps from the underside of a quivering mass of translucent flesh, with the longest at the front seeming almost thirty feet in length. As the thing draws near the talisman about your neck grows warm against your scales... thanks all the gods that you had thought to ward everyone against enthrallment.
"They are not playing according to the plan are they? Whoever could have expected that?" Waymar asks, the jest only a little shaky at the sight of the unnatural leviathan of the air.
"Some things never change no matter how strange the foe," Ser Richard notes with grim amusement of his own. "Do we go to them or wait for that thing to come upon us here?"
"A trap's not much of a one is the one you're hunting sees it coming," Vee chines in. "Can't imagine them bringing something like that in otherwise."
"It would be a mistake to think they've been watching over our shoulder just because they smelled a rat," Lya temporizes. "We put a lot of work into those traps and flying is dangerous for all but Viserys for the chance of the spell being broken."
What do you do?
[] Wait
[] Attack the strange creature
-[] Write in plan
[] Write in
OOC: The picture is from a pathfinder book, but the stat block itself is something I made.