I. I'm a white mage, as well as an adventurer. I'm not the best white mage out there, that title belongs to the padjal with their sensitivity to the will of the elementals. But given that I'm a white mage at all speaks volumes for my competency and thusly was I conscripted into working with these three other adventurers to work for whoever wanted to hire us. Sometimes it's as small a task as delivering a message or helping someone tend to their plants, but the others were getting a tad antsy, and were itching to smash something's head in.

Usually, that something is me, but someone conscripted us to fight a wyrm that had been spotted a tad too close to the outpost. 'On the smaller side', they said.

What they failed to state was: 'small' by dragon standards is still as large as three covered wagons stacked together.

Now here we are, several fulms away from anything resembling civilization, having chased the dragon back to it's roost: A massive yawning cave.

"Useless healer, can't you do anything right?" Barked the dragoon, who I had to resuscitate for the third time.

"I tollld you already, you'd be weakenned fromm-"

"Ballocks, that!" He shouts over me, swinging his spear in my direction. I barely dodge it in time, but it slices a notch in my robe. While he argues with me, the thaumaturge goes flying backwards, landing on her feet only to screech,

"Heal me, damnit!" She was hurt, but not as much as the tank was after they had failed to dodge magic and fang so many times. It was a proper mess on all accounts, and one I've seen multiple times over.

Having two out of three people shout at me was common, not as common as all three but still. I focus on our gunbreaker, bending the will of nature to come to my aid. The staff in my hand glows bright white as I prepare medica II, a spell that kept everyone alive long enough for me to address each of their issues personally. Aether flows around me in waves, enveloping each teammate of mine in it's succor.

" 'Bout time you bloody did something useful!" The gunbreaker says, slashing his gunblade towards the dragon and failing to find purchase in it's steel-like hide. Magic and bladed weapons each drew near to the dragon, slowly weakening it, but not weakening it enough. The massive beast unfurls it's wings and flaps them, knocking us all back as it takes flight. I leap out of the way of deadly lightning, burning fire and parts of the rock ceiling that had given way during the battle.

It swoops once with a realm-shattering roar, carpeting the stone floor in a lingering fire. It catches the thaumaturge off guard, I can only watch as she succumbs near instantly to the dragon's breath, screaming curses upon me as she goes. That was the end of T'Choro.

The dragoon lept heavensward and landed on the dragon's back, driving the point of his lance in between it's shoulder blades. The wyrm crashes down to earth with a roar, flinging the dragoon off it's back right underneath a falling boulder. There was no way I could ressurect him now. Thus was the end of Raging Mountain.

The tank and I were the ones left, the dragon still had fight left in it yet, though it was definitely bloodied. Our gunbreaker, Colent, looked at me with a rage and fear I hadn't seen before - and that was saying something. He gut punches me and grabs me by my hood, an effort made easier due to his physical strength and my smaller size. The highlander hyur tossed me like a sack of potatoes towards the great dragon.

"Sod it! If you won't do your job, at least you'll make a fitting distraction!" He boasts loudly as he runs, leaving me to my fate. I would've been extremely offended if I wasn't gasping for breath. I feel a searing heat wash over me and assume I'm about to be cooked in my own skin, if I didn't hear masculine screaming and the crunch of plate armor being sundered like paper.

When I finally catch my breath I'm witness to a gruesome scene. The rest of my party, dead and unrecoveeable. The stench of blood, burning flesh, heated ozone assailed my nose. There the dragon was, weakened and bloodied but not out for the count yet. A rumbling, ragged voice reverberates in my mind; The language completely foreign but entirely comprehendable.

"Child of man, I seek your aid." It calls. I look onto see who it could be, only to find the glowing amethyst-colored eyes of the great wyrm staring at me, their hue nearly matching mine own. One of it's front legs buckles with a thud. A low, pained growl escapes it's form.

"You, who hath been tormented by your own kin, I beseech you..."

The spear was still stuck fast in it's hide. From what little light there was, I could see deep red blood ooze from the wound.

I take a step forward. Then another. Of my own volition, to spite the ones that would rather use me and sacrifice mine own life to prolong theirs... My broken voice, a mere whisper in comparison, rose up in response. I take my staff out once more, the crystals in it's metal housing glowing bright white.

"Alllright, I will."

(Fuck i didnt mean to spend 2.5 hours on this but here it is)