Hildigrim doesn't hesitate. He takes the proffered bottle and stores it in a pocket for safe keeping. He nods silent approval to the eladrin.

OOC: Moved potion of healing from Auriel's inventory to Hildigrim's inventory.

Knight Burral shakes your hands as you take the money, and opens her mouth to answer Hex's question. Nothing but a harsh exhale comes out as the entire inn is shaken. A tremendous gust of wind blows open the door and causes crockery and glasses to crash to the floor. The horrific roar that follows is felt vibrating in the pits of your stomachs as much as it is heard, turning your blood to ice - something primal, dredged from the very roots of the world.

"Bane's black blood! What in the Nine Hells was that!?" Aleyd shouts, racing up the stairs to the second floor of the inn. She peers out of the windows, looking shocked and aghast.

"Hainard's hairy toes!" Hildigrim curses through gritted teeth. He holds a hand up in front of his eyes against the wind.

The halfling disappears beneath the table and scrabbles out into the great room. Instead of following Aleyd up the stairs, he runs to the door. His hair, already a birds nest, whips around in the wind like a loose sail.

He crouches down, trying to be as small as he can be, as he peers around the door toward the street.

Hex immediately ducks down as the door blows open, instinctively covering her head with her arms to block any flying shards of glass. Her heart drops at the sound of the primordial roar. "Oh gods... please don't be a dragon." She doesn't notice Hildigrim scrambling under and out of the table and so goes to follow Aleyd up the stairs to get a better view.

Carl had just put the pouch of coins away and was turning to look at Burral when the blast occurs, he feels rocked in his chair, putting his hands out to the table to steady himself.  He turns to look if windows are blown out and shakes his head, clearing it and hoping that the damn ringing in his ears will stop.  Carl stands after a moment and goes to the door, near Hildigrim to look outside and see if he can locate the source of the blast.  Squirt drops his rag onto the table and walks after his master toward the door.  “What in the blazes….where did that come from?”  Carl says, readying himself to run or fight if needed.  

Auriel doesn't have a moment to acknowledge Hildigrim's approving nod as the building shudders violently and the door slams open with a howling gust of wind. 

The Eladrin scrambles to his feet and reaches out to Aisling in his mind, commanding her to get to safety. At least for the time being.

Then he follows after Hildigrim and Carl, halberd at the ready—prepared to face whatever might be coming. (ooc: if anything dangerous gets within his 10feet reach, he'll react with a Polearm Master AOO)

Hex arrives only a few seconds behind Aleyd to a sight that defies description: A colossal winged serpent, larger than the entirety of the Laughing Goblin, has perched itself against Valjevo Castle. The fortress's timeworn bastions crack and crumble, its claws gouging the stone like parchment. The rising autumn sun glistens off of its massive green head as it rears back. Its jaws yawn wide, wide enough to swallow a horse whole. Then, a moment where the whole world seems to hold its breath...

The dragon's breath comes not as flame, but as a boiling vapor of green mist, jetting forth in a torrent and rolling into the gaping hole it made. A great portion of the tower vanishes in a wet, hissing collapse, stone bubbling and melting like wax, the air itself seeming to seethe in agony. Screams from the castle and the city echo through the panes of glass even from this distance.

Down below, Hildigrim, Carl and Auriel see people pouring into the square before the Laughing Goblin, many in a blind panic. Men and women jostle each other, some half-dressed, others smeared with ash and blood. A few have fallen to their knees, staring skyward toward Valjevo Castle, lips moving in prayer - or despair, it's difficult to tell. 

In the distance, at the castle, thick clouds of noxious, green vapor spill off the sides of the castle and into the narrow streets, limiting or perhaps entirely preventing the ability of the town's defenders to approach. Hex and Aleyd can see from their perch on the second story that many men and women in uniform are held at bay by the edge of the rolling green vapors.

Auriel freezes in place, eyes wide, unable to process what he's seeing. The halberd, which he had held ready to strike, drops from its stance, the tip sinking toward the ground as his right arm suddenly loses all strength. "Na la në…" he mutters in his Elvish mother tongue.

For the briefest of moments, that is all the Eladrin can do—watch, horror shaking his very foundations. So this was it. All those Cult movements they had been tracking over the past tendays… this was what they were leading to. A dragon. Attacking Phlan.

All around him, people run and scream and fall. But he just watches ... until the frozen bubble he seems trapped in suddenly pops. Auriel blinks and shakes his head, as though waking from a reverie, then turns to look around him, suddenly aware of the crowd surrounding him.

A second later, the paladin rushes to help the nearest person who's stumbled in the panic. To those kneeling in prayer or stunned in terror, he runs to them—pulling them up by the shoulders. "Stand up! If you stay here, you'll choke to death!" His voice cuts through like ice water poured over the spine. "Don't give in to panic. Help those around you. Move away from the cloud. Now!"

If those around him don't respond, he does not hesitate. A firm grip, a shove, even the flat of his gauntlet against a cheek if needed. Whatever it takes to break their stupor, he will do it.

Not seeing anything from the doorway of the Laughing Goblin, Hildigrim ventures into the street, following the noise, and stopping in his tracks at the sight of the serpent. Though his voice has been silenced, his mind repeats: Hainard's hairy toes!

Auriel's movements finally loose Hildigrim's frozen muscles. Attacking the great beast would be foolish, but they can certainly usher everyone to safety.

The halfling runs toward Stojanow Gate, putting on an extra burst speed — his little legs moving in a blur. Every person he comes into proximity with, he instructs to head back toward the docks. They need to get as far away from the beast and its acid breath as possible.