Hunt for Kazmidrax the White

The Travellers found themselves summoned to a grand forum of ancient dragons, where they were to answer for their actions. Under the watchful gaze of these powerful beings, they faced scrutiny and accusations, their motives and allegiances questioned. Tensions ran high as the gathered dragons debated their fate, their voices echoing through the vast chamber.

Amid the proceedings, Kazmidrax arrived, taking the form of a regal yet imposing dragonborn. His presence only escalated the conflict, as he wasted no time in leveling accusations against the Travellers. He claimed they were allies of William Vicarin, the one who sought to steal his dragon heart, and that their interference had been part of a greater scheme. Furthermore, he defended his killing of Aislinne, declaring it an act of self-defense—justified in his eyes.

In an attempt to resolve the feud, a trial by combat was proposed, a sacred means of settling disputes among dragons and their kin. But Kazmidrax rejected the offer, refusing to engage in such a challenge. Instead, he issued a chilling vow—he would find the Travellers again, and when he did, there would be no place where they could hide from his wrath. With that, he departed, leaving the tension unresolved and the threat of his return looming over them.

With the aid of Grand Master Lupricall Maximus and his powerful scrying magic, The Travellers finally uncovered the whereabouts of Kazmidrax the White. The dragon, thought to have left the region, was still lurking somewhere within the Barony. Acting swiftly, the party teleported to Falktown and began their pursuit across the countryside.

It wasn’t long before signs of the beast appeared—frozen trees shattered like glass, and a blanket of sudden snowfall smothered the land in unnatural cold. The quiet was broken by a terrible roar overhead. Kazmidrax emerged from the clouds like a falling star of pale death, diving upon them with a scream of hatred. His breath, a blizzard given form, swept over Rayenne and Ves. Ves narrowly dodged the blast; Rayenne, caught in its path, endured the freezing gale by sheer will.

Kazmidrax landed with a crash, his claws tearing into the earth as the battle began. The fight was brutal. But this was not the same band of adventurers who had once fled before the dragon's fury. They had grown—stronger, wiser, hardened by loss. And they had not forgotten the friend they lost to Kazmidrax's wrath.

The white dragon unleashed wave after wave of chilling breath, his aura of frost biting at their bones. But the Travellers stood firm, trading blow for blow. Amelia struck with precision and power, stunning the great beast in a moment of vulnerability. Ves followed swiftly, toppling the dragon with a brutal counterstrike, slamming him into the frozen dirt.

Bleeding, grounded, and surrounded, Kazmidrax had no escape. Sabre and Bartimaeus seized the moment. With ruthless coordination, they tore through one of the dragon’s wings, grounding him for good. Then, with a cry of vengeance, Saber drove his blade through the creature’s neck—severing it cleanly.

Kazmidrax the White, slayer of heroes, fell at last to those who had survived him. No mercy was offered. None was deserved.