Fighting their way to the manor, the party looked down into the ruins, the house itself destroyed, falled into the very cellars that had granted them safety from the starfall so long ago. Within the pit, their worst nightmares were surpassed by the evil they found there.
Strewn about the pit lay giants, kobolds, and even a couple human residents of Kechner, but laid upon the ground, each with a giant black cyst growing up out of their torso. As the party watched, one such cyst split, disgorging a kobold identical to the one spread upon the cellar floor below it, but slime-covered, glassy-eyed, with horrible mouths and eyes sproutin at random over its skin. Veins of the cyst pulsed and melded into the body of its host. These cancerous growths were copying their hosts only perverting their bodies into twisted parodies of life.
In the center of it all as the dragon. Itself once a firey red, now mixed with black and green and glistening with the slime that marked it as one more aberrant beast. When it saw the party, it rose up into the air, declaring “you will be brought into the host to serve Ragnorra, mother of all life!”
In the fight that followed, the party was attacked on all sides by the dragon, its creations, and the evil spawn of the cysts on the ground. Several of them nearly died, but in the end they emerged victorious. Searching the rubble and freeing some hiding townsfolk, they set them to rebuilding, and their legend was born.
Truly, no ordinary folk could have achieved such accomplishments. These adventurers were truly mythic.