Fallon's mood was dour as he rode back in to Waterdeep. Almost a week since the last holiday and its devastation, rained upon it from the skies above from the breath of dragons and the claws of terrible wyverns. Whole buildings, in some cases entire blocks were destroyed by not only the vicious attacks, but by their falling bodies as they dropped lifeless from the sky. He could not help but drifting off, remembering the fright filled night of dragons . . .
The initial shock had worn off, and it was clear the plans laid in place were working. The Samular Lords had correctly guessed the points of attack. His Lord Tarm had Heroes Garden surrounded by all of his forces, nearly 200 fighters and cavaliers ready to stand in the path of the tyranny of the beasts of the north and pay any price necessary to defend Waterdeep and her peoples.
And pay they would. Over the course of the night, Fallon led airborne charges against the masters of the sky, losing their entire unit of cavalry trained on flying mount horses on a salvo that brought down his first and only true dragon of the night. The soldiers all perished, but each rode true and they all skewered the white dragon in midair, before the dragon could freeze the horsemen below it. Fallon called on his cloak of the eagle and lured the massive wyverns into range of the nets deployed in the north walls. The tactic was brilliantly effective in that the wyverns tended to be close to the walls in slightly more open grounds when they fell, where Captain Arina's fighters and cavaliers fought the entangled beasts.
Even in the nets however, each of the monstrous dragons killed several men and women in its struggles. All night long long Fallon watched more and more of the flower of Waterdhavian youth destroyed in their valiant efforts to defend everything they loved. They were the same things he loved, and he fought the same war they did. Lust for battle and the rage of War filled his heart as the wind filled his ears that night. Glory was seen that night, and the Luck of the battle was evident in the Protection of the survivors of that night, but nothing was as strongly present as Death, except for perhaps Hate and Destruction.
…As he shook himself from his reverie, he could see the Observatory in Heroes Garden, and the fast paced construction of the Horseman’s Cathedral. The grounds were abuzz with the activities of the stables and the bustle of hundreds of new faces he didn't know; a new group of followers to herald the ascension of their Gypsy Lord and propel Him to the Heavens. He smiled as he could hear the voice of Galoban pealing out over the sounds of practicing musicians. He smiled even broader at the thought of high Priestess Teldicia. She often made a fuss of "personally attending the First Knight's religious needs".