The stomping of the dragon, the screeching of metal on scale, the beastly cries of struggle, and that flesh reeling hiss. It was all muffled, and Darmariq was all but there as his senses flooded him with conflicting stimuli. The grasping of his staff was like clenching a pole of thorns. Breathing left his mouth with a sour taste and the ground felt as if it was swallowing him whole. He glared up at the creature with its mouth bearing teething as large as him and chuckled softly. 

"There's still... some magic in this," he muttered.

He pulled himself up his staff and lumbered into a stance. As he braced himself for a final attack, the potion but a lingering presence in his frame, the wild peasant came running across the field with bag in hand. What is he playing at now, Darmariq wondered, and when he thought the day could not become any more eventful, the peasant tossed three pigeons at the dragon, impeding the air into its nostrils, followed by someone—something—inviting itself into the dragon's mouth.

"Drat!" he uttered at the sudden realization. 

He fell as he attempted to sprint into the woods, crawling like a bear unto on his feet and did not bother looking back as something terrible roared behind him. The clamour became more dreadful, more intense and more angry. An amalgam of a burst and plopping chunks of meat assaulted his ears as he hurried behind a tree. An odour of enteric gases soon claimed the air he swiftly regretted gasping for, doing everything in his power not to spill his breakfast onto the ground. He looked up at the branches and felt a swift embarrassment when he saw his robe.

He dug his backpack from the loose dirt and pulled out one of his two waterskins. The splitting of the dryness in his throat never felt so welcoming. 

Time to see what remains of the creature, he said to himself. He patted his waist and felt nothing, and sighed when the memory dawned on him. He donned his robe and backpack once more and set forth to the battle site, removing the broken leaves and twigs from his hair and pondering how he could convince anyone of the deadly use of pigeons.