The Evening of the 13th - Sunsday - The Clockwork Spires

Another roar echoed through the and slowly turning cogs above the rotating platform. The beast, armor plating cracked, gears grinding loudly on one another, pawed at the wooden platform ferociously. The mechanical whir behind the roar was more audible; it was badly wounded. One wing hung limply at its side, while the other was pierced through in two places. It roared again.

"There, there. Don't be afraid boy. You took a beating, but I'm sure you gave as good as you got. Don't worry."

A small figure, lithe, but broad shouldered squatted beside the beast, tools spread out across the floor. Small spider-like machines scurried over the large dragon's form, replacing cogs, bolts, and small bits of copper wiring. The figure with the tools patted the metal plating of the mechanical dragon, then spoke a word in the ancient dwarvish tongue.

"Next time you'll be stronger my friend. Next time they won't be able to pierce your metal quite as well..."

Out of the darkness, a quiet chuckle grew into a loud roar of laughter, which mixed with the clicking of the spiders, and the whirling of the gears above and below.