Yosi's vision
You stand under an awning outside a shop near the river in Southbay. Ahead of you, a narrow bridge arches over the water. Your heart is pounding and rivulets of sweat coarse down the side of your face. You are exhausted and near the end of your reserves, but a deep fear presses you forward.
Behind you, the rending of wood and stone signals the end of another building. She is too close! You must make a break for the other side. Perhaps the temple can offer some form of sanctuary – but even that seems unlikely.
With no walls to shelter you, the bridge is an enormous risk. Still… Staying put is certain death. Running is at least a chance.
From your right (closer now!), you hear another wall come down. A small mob of panicked people spew from the front doors of what they must have thought was shelter. Within seconds, a jet of green liquid rains from above. Three of the runners melt, their limbs twitch briefly before their bodies realize they are dead.
With a dull thud that shakes the city, she lands in the road next to the river, just two blocks away. The bridge and the chance of safety beyond beckons. She lets out a roar that echoes off the buildings in all directions. If any glass remained in the windows, it would have shattered.
You begin the run. No time to think. Thinking will only slow you down. Your legs pump. Your boots thump against the stones of the bridge. Only a few seconds to the line of buildings on the other side. Perhaps she will not see. Perhaps she is distracted.
The bridge shifts under your feet! The stones rattle loose from each other, sending mortar and rock dropping to the river below. As your footing falters, you realize that it is over. Like your teammates before you, your time has come. She is too much. This death will be your last.
Instinct sends your arms out to grab the remains of a twisted metal railing that just seconds before ran along the side of the bridge. An instant later, as her massive black head glides smoothly in front of yours, you realize that a plunge into the waters below may have been safer. A familiar acid smell wafts from her nostrils. Your nose begins to bleed. One of her curved horns gingerly brushes your cheek.
Her voice rumbles – as if it could shake the world to dust if she so much as spoke the right word.
“Manorgrax is dead. The Oathstone is destroyed. No one can stop me. Not your pathetic friends. Not an entire army. My lizard kin will rule this valley for centuries to come!”
Her jaws snap forward, filling the world with blackness, pain, and silence…