redravin40

Reaching out to touch the half-dragon Father Quadrial feels a horrible sorrow like something has been torn away.
A piece of the warriors soul has been carried away to who know where.
He remember some of the learned texts he had read describing just such an effect when an undead master tried to drain the life force of a cleric and had been fought off.
The only problem was that the cleric had gone mad and spent the rest of his days weeping and mourning the loss of that part of his soul that would never return.
But this was no cleric it was a warrior with the magic of a dragon.
Only a true master of darkness could do such a thing.

"OK, you annoying amulet this is your chance to prove yourself worth my having to listen to you whine and complain all the time."
"What are you talking to me? When some dumb dragon warrior needs help you decide to ask me for help? And without a bit of common politeness I might add..."
Not willing to listen for another minute, Father Quadrial reaches out with both hand and digs deep into the blisters on the half/dragons skin/hide.
With a moan he lets every bit of him self that he can afford to release go.
Slowly the dark void is filled.
Staggering backward, he sits with a thump on the floor.
"My friends, let us hope I don't have to do that again very soon or you will have to carry me from this place on my sheild."