The dark elf avenger was closing in on the great warbeast of a mammoth and swung with all of his might in order to cleave through the druid's trunk-like leg. He pitched forward overbalanced though, suddenly finding himself without a target to hit. Melianth fell forward into the mud and came up in a roll, facing tumbling armor and chains with a look of utter confusion strewn across his face. Amidst the rain, the chunks of exoskeleton and the scrambling contruct, he caught a glimpse of a striking female form within. After a few brief movements the figure whom he'd identified as a rather attractive minotaur woman, rolled out from the collapse and chucked a spear which was easily parried. The darkling was still much too stunned to speak, much less pursue the druid. His amazement was no longer caused by Dani's disappearing act, however, but the massive shadow hurtling in from the end of the pass. With barely a thought, he whispered; "What in the hell...?"
Near the northern side of the field things had toned down to a stalemate, the the enemy archers and casters along the cliffs suddenly ceasing their assault. Belsius's chest heaved with exertion, having been spent physically so hard had he fought. Only a multitude of healing spells had kept the northern wall up, and he'd done minimal healing to himself. A mental nudge towards the center of the army signalled that Melianth was calling him via Diloxi's strange mark, one that the brothers hadn't taken the time to learn to use. In any case, the elder Avaran sprinted off into the midst of the caravan after making sure his side was secure. After leaping over an arrow-strewn wagon, his breath caught. By the heavens...
The white robed attackers made short work of the Savage forces along the ridges and cliffs, and made to put an arrow through any who would oppose them. Several spoke a word of command and engulfed a few of Visar's "murder" in large flaming orbs that hissed and sputtered in the dowpour. They dodged and weaved amongst the return fire like ghosts, unnatural in their uncanny speed and silence. The flame-emblazoned robe wearer that had been down by Mercy did little to deter his companions, the other two leaning over the edge and tossing down flaming spheres of death upon the nightmarian woman. One of the unknown attackers stood at the edge, staring out past her hood to the east. With a howl of elation the woman threw back her hood to reveal her gnollish heritage. Several others caught sight of what she saw, and revealed themselves while crying out in a similar fashion. Orcs, humans, elves, halflings, the white figures seemed to be a group comprised of every race, Savage, Civil or otherwise.
The great form flying over the cliffs, previously hidden by rain and distance, made it's appearance. With a heavy beat of wings and a roar loud enough to shatter some of the eardrums of the people below, the beast flew overhead, displaying more than five-hundred feet in length worth of pure, deadly, force. The canyon grew silent, the only sounds being the patter of rain and the remnants of the beast's roar. The only word on everyone's mind, that one unbelievable word was given voice by the gnoll cultist atop the ridge.
"Dragon."
Before any could scream out in terror or even think of fleeing the gargantuan steel dragon unleashed a tremendous gout of fire upon the outer-most forces. It swept over the rest of the men and women fighting in the ravine in seconds, engulfing anyone, Civil or Savage, in life cleansing fire. The dragon suddenly whipped it's massive head around and incinerated the harpies of both the main army and the entirety of the mercenary "murder". In less than twenty heartbeats of pure destruction and primal fear, it was over.
A full hour passed before any life stirred within the canyon valley. The fact that anything at all moved was a miracle in and of itself. The rain had passed, although the black clouds remained. No longer did water fall down from the sky...but ash. It drifted earthwards like ebon snowflakes, and the ground, covered in a heavy layer of nearly one foot of the stuff was evidence of the dragon's destruction.
Shokunen burst from the ash in a cloud of dust and wheezed out a ragged breath. After taking a small while to compose himself, the prince looked down at Obadani, whom he cradled inside his tail. Just before the dragons flames Sho had heaved a downed rhino overhead and snatched up the druid turned wolf in a hasty attempt to shield them from the flames. It had worked, as their still breathing attested to, but a long line of burns across his back and left arm spoke of how powerful the dragonfire was. Staring about the pass, seeing nothing but a silent wasteland of ash and death...it was all the prince could do not to cry out in despair. The white assailants were gone. So was the dragon. Now, there was nothing but silence.
A couple hundred yards away Belsius stirred to life, rolling out of the ash. After him the dark elf pulled out the tiny form of Miralight. The cleric tried to erect a holy barrier against the dragon's fury, but fell short. Tears stremed down the darkling's soot-stained cheeks as his eyes roved across the dead valley. Miralight had been to only one he'd been able to protect. A small, very small spark of hope flickered deep within Belsius's chest though. The mental connection Diloxi had set in place was still active somewhat, and he could still feel the link with the queen, his general and even Mel, to his relief. Now he was sure at least a few people had survived...that was something at least.
Still. This day was no victory. To anyone. This day was darkness, death and despair.