A mother’s caress is one of the few pure things in Althanas. Meanwhile men vie for power, stepping and trodding on others in order to get that step closer to ultimate power. On the streets it is no different, the swarming mess of human filth runs into the gutters. It is so thick, so tainted by stench of sweat and debauchery it’s odor reaches up into the Twilight Mountains. Normally, high in those jagged peaks and capped with snow, it can be ignored. Sometimes, just sometimes, there is a stirring loud enough for even those isolated peaks to be reached. When mortals cross that line, doing something so horrible that it echoes through the mountains, then all shall see how pure a mother’s rage can be.

Two giant wings unfurled. Even in the darkness of the cave flickers of light rippled across their surface. The air was filled with the sound of shifting coins as thousands of gold pieces were pushed aside so the creature’s main body could emerge. The initial slow movement quickened, a puff of flames illuminating the area and catching both armoured scale and gold alike. The dragon’s body lurched forwards, four legs causing cascading crashes of gold with each footfall. The limbs quickened into a run until the creature explode out into the cold light of day.

The dragon looked at home among the white peaked mountains. Her scales were pure white, each one was a vibrant ivory colour, catching and reflecting the sunlight with an astounding pale luminosity. With each beat of her wings, the dragon lurched forwards towards the edge of the mountains. Her rage was boiling over, building up and releasing in an ear-shattering roar. The sound echoed through the mountains and flowed down into the vallies below.

Moonwing had emerged, and she would have vengeance.

* * * *

It took a week for the news of the attacks to reach the capital. At first they were laughed off, surely we have cleared out all the dragons? No, no, there simply can’t be three. And yet, the reports kept coming. First there was the mysterious plague dragon, bringing the terrible plague from afar, war torn island. The second was Sunwing, the young dragon that had terrorised towns and slayed most that had been sent to end it. Now there was another, bringing more destruction and fire.

A now familiar call had gone out to all mercenaries and monster hunters; Please rid us of this monster… What information about the creature’s attacks was vague, most was only the reports of survivors of former attacks. However, those that were smart enough, or lucky enough, would realise that the direction of the attacks pointed at a small town of no more than a few dozen people. This was the location of Moonwing’s attack, and the place of her possible defeat.

* * * *

Jormungstadt, the tiny town perched below the Twilight Mountains. It has once been a prosperous town, acting as one of the only transportation routes between one of the larger mines and the rest of Alerar. However, all good things come to an end. The min had eventually shut after a series of collapses, the only vein of fertile metals were under tones of loose rubble, and despite every attempt there was no way to dig any further. A decade later and the town was a shadow of it’s former glory. A grand church was the centre of the town, adorned with thick white marble, somewhat stained with years of weather and neglect. Most of the buildings on the outskirts had been stripped a long time ago, with many just the foundations now.

Despite this, the town was a cheery place. With a small population and relatively healthy flow of coins comes a close knit community. Elves and humans lived in peace, with more than a few half-bloods mixed in. There were a few dwarves as well, generally routine travellers going to and from the strongholds of their kin.

The town was a hive of activity on the fair day of potential destruction. People had heard the rumours of dragons further north, but did not consider their small town might be next. The weekly market continued as planned, with rows of tables lined with goods stretching all the way around the church. Nearly the whole town was in attendance and their ranks were swelled by travelling merchants that had stopped to sell a few wears, or restock for the next journey. The air was filled with the smell of cooked meats and vegetables and the happy chatterings of folk. Soon that would change.