The dragon's eye stares at Klale for a long time before answering, as if it had to work up the will or energy to do so through the disease.  "MmmmmmmMMmmmMMMMmmMMMM...mmmMMMMmmm..mmmmelkor."  The last is said as a whisper, but something about the name causes a small echo in the cave, almost like a deep musical note.  It fades quickly, but the disease seems somehow affected by it.  It peels back at the edges, barely a finger width, no more.

The effect on the dragon itself is more profound.  Electrical energy courses over its body where the disease has not yet won.  He rises to his feet and roars at the sky, a bolt of lightning leaping from his throat into the clouds above.  His movements are erratic, but he does not come at the Men.

All too soon, the thrashing ends and the Storm Dragon lays back down, moaning in its pain and dread.

Klale raises his sword and points it at the dragon's eye. Be at peace, brave soul he says ready to thrust into the eye hilt deep.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:02, Mon 08 Oct 2018.

Klale, before you strike I think we should see if there is any way to save him.  something is altering this dragons form.  Perhaps a quick look around the area?  Ano begins to search the cave.

Ys'shathas have you seen anything like this before.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:04, Wed 03 Oct 2018.

Klale holds up. He said to kill, but a short time probably won't hurt.

From the shadows, the Smoke Dragon answers Ano's question.  There is fear in her words, palpable fear.

"No, Ano.  I have neither seen nor heard anything like this in all my hundred years."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:01, Mon 08 Oct 2018.

Klale looks at Ano impatiently.

Ano looks around the room for clues.  Ice fills the vast cavern, covers everything in a sparkling sheen.  Twenty dragons of a size with the Storm Dragon could fit in here comfortably.  Ledges extend sporadically around the walls far from the center where the current resident fights for his life.  From many of these, partially frozen waterfalls descend into beautiful pools of chilly water.

There is treasure too, under all the ice.  Glistening coin, weapons, armor, gems, even paintings, statues, and fine furniture.  A layer of thick ice protects these valuables, and they cannot be readily reached.  Something about the cavern suggests that the frozen nature is not its usual state, that the ice has intruded as part of the Storm Dragon's condition.  It's as if he normally kept things warmer and flowing, but no longer has the energy to do so.

In all that Ano and Klale examine, however, there is nothing connected to the transformative disease consuming the dragon.  Whatever is causing this is connected directly and only to the dragon.

One word escapes from the dragon in his agony.  "Mmmmmsssongmmmm."

"Song?  Was this caused by one of the Songs of Iluvatar?  Or perhaps a Dischord as punishment?"  Ys'shathas moves to the Storm Dragon and reaches out for the disease.  Before she touches it, though, she pulls back.  Instead, she breathes on it.  To her surprise, the stuff does not become intangible.

With eyes narrowed in contemplation, the Smoke Dragon moves around to the dragon side of the Storm Dragon.  She breathes again, this time on the draconic portion.  For a second it appears as if the parts touched by the smoke grow dimmer, but not quite translucent before the Storm Dragon roars in pain and the form returns to its typical solid state.

"How very interesting."

Klake sings word his grandmother sang when he was on her knee:

"To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
   All pray in their distress,
   And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness."  [Blake, The Divine Image, Songs of Innocence.]

And he adds a stave of his own:

"A kindness, a wish, peace, from love,
  I act from your distress,
  Accept this deed against a blight
And may Eru all us bless."

He stabs into the eye and into the skull.

Weakened already by whatever assaulted it, the Storm Dragon dies with little more than a staticky sigh.  As it expires, the disease fades without a sound leaving only the part of the dragon not consumed.  Blood immediately pours out onto the ice, melting it and coating everything in dragon-blood.  The stench is vile, full of blood, feces, bile, and all the inner workings of dragons.

Ys'shathas steps back from the spreading wave of blood.  She looks at Klale for a long several seconds before finally saying, "that was messy."  Then she looks away and moves toward one of the tunnel exits to wait.

Klale, he hopes, finds the means to clean Hard Time. He joins Ys'shathas. I tried to be as quick and merciful as possible. ... Killing is a heavy thing to do. I was a simple blacksmith, a good one, and was conscripted into a battle between two lords. Then I wa drawn into all this. When I glimpsed what the stakes are, keeping Arda as is if not bettering the lands versus...well, you observed just now. Some time ago, we were by a lake, and the people there were diseased, I guess you'd call it, but they functioned. And I met a woman who joined us for a while. She left. I could have gone with her. Happy marriage, children.... I never even thought about abandoning all this. and somehow to resist that which is coming. One chooses as best one can, does as best one can....

Ano looks down disappointed at the body of the storm dragon for a long time.  Just one more in a long line of victims he was unable to help.  If only they could have moved the dragon from this spot, perhaps like they did with Kornari, they could have stopped the corruption.

Ano leaves the main chamber and stalks towards the others.  This cannot continue.  Each side losing members until we are both to weak to survive.  We need to draw out this dragon master, and stop him and his plans for the dragons.

Klale turns to Ano. I'm listening.

A shadow passes swiftly overhead, seen through the holes in the cavern ceiling.

Ano looks up I think we have company.  Best we get moving.

Klale nods and looks for a good place from which to see and maybe not be seen.

The two Men find hiding places from which to observe the next events.  An enormous dragon covered in black skin rather than scales lands in the midst of the room first.  It fills a tenth of the cavern having barely made it through the largest of the sky holes.  It's wings are riddled with holes and scars from possible past battles or perhaps decay.  Boney spines protrude from joints and all along the spine down to a tail the ends in a barb dripping with a black fluid.

It's eye sockets are sunk into its head and only a pinprick of deep violet can be seen in the depths.  Many of the dragon's teeth are angled funny, some useless, some overlapping.  A number are simply missing.  Obsidian talons jut from emaciated claws.  However, the dragon moves with a fluidity that says its looks are a lie about its strength.  If anything fit the description of a death dragon, this was it.

Next to it land four other dragons.  Two War Dragons all metal spikes and plates, a strange indigo-colored dragon smaller than the rest, but crackling with invisible energy - Eldritch by elimination, and another Storm Dragon.  It is the last dragon that speaks first.

"So I am the last, then."  It sniffs around then turns away from the carnage in the room.  "This is not the work of Men or dwarves.  Not even the younger dragons could have done something like this."

The Death Dragon buries its head in the carcass with a squelching sound.  After a time it withdraws and faces the others, gore dripping everywhere.  "Noo, thissss wassss not the work of the Enemy or the Massssster.  Thisssss wassss the Other."

"It cannot have come this far."  The Eldritch Dragon lowered itself to reveal a rider sitting on its shoulders.  The rider slipped down and approached the Death Dragon and the corpse without fear.  They looked down to examine the remains of the Storm Dragon, then turned away to face the Death Dragon.  "I don't doubt you are right, Kul'vaenurix, forgive my poor choice of words.  They were meant to express incredulity at the Other's power, not disbelief of your analysis."

The Death Dragon peered down at the rider, who was smaller than Ano, but seemed to still be the size of Men.  "Yesss, Dragon Massster.  The Other hassss rissssen in only two plasssessss, Mithlond and the Sssshrine of Morinehtar.  It sssseeemsss sssstrange that it hassss found root here.  We mussssst sssscour thissss lair clean according to the masssster'ssss will.  I cannot assssisssst in thissss.  Only a Disssschord or a sssssinger of renown could cleansssss the Other from thissss plasssssse."

The rider turns to face all the dragons and removes their helmet to reveal a woman's hair woven into a single tail tucked into her armor at the back.  "I can do it.  My grandfather was a world traveler and bard of renown.  I performed enough times with him before I left the Duchies that it will suffice for our purposes here."  The woman turns back to the carcass revealing her face finally to Ano and Klale.

It is Aashera Elend.

Klale looks at Ano, shrugs, and steps forth. Good day, Lady Asshera. It's been a long time. Though it's a sentence to make strong men shudder, "I think we need to talk."

The dragons all whip their heads toward the blacksmith, each of them preparing to strike in their own way.

Aashera holds up a hand and each of them settle back down.  The Death Dragon slowest of all.

Aashera looks at Klale, but there is no joy in her face, no light in her eyes.  She examines Klale the way she might examine a pawn on a chess board.  "Klale Tsolo.  You have caused a lot of problems for me.  We do need to talk.  Are Toben, Phin, and Ano here with you?  What of Eles?"

[Roll Spot checks at DC 22 Ano and Klale.]

Any with me can speak for themselves. I can tell you that Phineas went away long ago, Eles before then.

If I've caused problems, it's inadvertent, and I now suspect that much trouble would have been saved by more communication and less...let's call it wariness...earlier.

He looks at the dragons. If I have offended, I beg forgiveness. For the latest, there was a storm dragon here, dying, suffering, greatly covered with some kind of gray stuff. The dragon begged me to kill him before it was too late. After no way to help him was found, I thrust my sword into the brain through an eye. The result you know.

Maybe that makes me "the Other", though I've no idea what that signifies.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Mon 15 Oct 2018.

Ano steps from behind their hiding place as well to stand close to Klale.  He stares wide eyed at Aashera.  "Thank goodness you are alright.  We wanted to back for you when you disappeared but the need to save the songs progressed to quickly for any of us.  I can assure you your father is in safe company."

Aashera nods at the two Men's reports, but shows no emotion at the safety of her grandfather.  "Honest to the last.  One day that is going to get you killed."  She shakes her head and continues.  "Things are not what they seem.  First, what do you know of the 'disease' that affected Aksorufond?"  She indicates the corpse of the Storm Dragon.  "What do you know of the Other?"

"Today is the first time we have heard mention of the Other.  Up until now it has been us and the Songs up against the Discords.  We sided with the young dragons to defend them against the elders and you,  the dragon master." Ano had a hard time keeping his tone in check at the realization that a once friend is now on what seems to be an opposite side.  "Who do you serve now.  Are you working for the discords?"

Aashera shakes her head.  "This is where all the misunderstanding lies, Ano.  We all serve the same purpose.  I don't work for anyone but me, but I work with the dragons and Melkor.  I also work toward the same purpose as Eru Iluvatar, the one these mighty beings call 'the Enemy' out of habit."  She glances at the dragons with disapproval.  They actually all turn away somewhat sheepishly at her reprimand.

"The Other is best described as an infection from a different realm.  It infects the body and traps the soul so that while the infection lasts, the soul is not in the body, but remains connected to it.  We have not found a way to completely reverse the effect, but we do know that sound, particularly beautiful music such as that aligned with Iluvatar, can cleanse the taint from an area and close the connection at that point.  None of our side but me has anything resembling that.  A Dischord can destroy the taint, but tends to destroy all connected to it as well.  A Dischord would have slain Aksorufond as you did.  A Song, we hypothesize, might heal him...reverse the process."

She looks back at the dragons then to Klale and Ano.  "We all need to stop fighting.  The Other is what drew Melkor back to Arda.  He is trying to enter it, not to destroy it as before, but to help save it from the Other."