DescriptionBellarius the Guardian is the fifth boss encounter for Subterranean Depths (Area: Dragon's Lair). As with all bosses, Bellarius the Guardian can also be battled in a raid with 4 available levels: Normal, Hard, Legendary and Nightmare.
|Bellarius the Guardian Essence||Used to summon Bellarius the Guardian (Raid)||Bellarius the Guardian quest boss|
|Raknur's Sword||Used to upgrade Roland to Roland2||Quest Boss - Bellarius the Guardian|
|Research Library Book||This book allows you to construct the Research Library in your Citadel, and can be obtained by defeating Bellarius the Guardian (quest version) on Normal difficulty.||Quest: N Bellarius the Guardian|
|Research Library Scroll 1||This scroll allows you to construct additional items from the Research Library in your Citadel.||N Bellarius the Guardian|
Mobile Version only
|Magma Horror Essence||Used to summon Magma Horror Raid||Subterranean Depths quest bosses|
|Citrine Human-Oroc Treaty||Used to craft Blood and Crystal||Quest Boss - Bellarius the Guardian|
|Ancient Dwarven Breastplate||60||70||78||70||Increases Energy by 3 and Stamina by 1||Quest boss - Bellarius the Guardian|
|Nazula||90||50||103||Subterranean Slayer: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage vs Underground bosses; Extra damage for each Pierced Oroc Brain owned (max 30); Nazula's Attack and Defense increase by 135 when in the Oroc Warband legion||Quest Boss: Nightmare Bellarius the Guardian|
|Brown Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
|Grey Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
|Green Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
|Blue Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
|Purple Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
|Orange Oroc Crystal||Craft x2 Stat Points||Subterranean Depths raids, quests, help requests and gifting|
The stench of annihilation fills the air -- the scent of dismembered bodies, burning fur and flesh. The huts are aflame, your mage's spells devouring them, the fire dancing and roaring at your victory. When the defeated survivors of the war limp home, battered and broken in body and spirit, they'll learn the true cost of their assault on the kingdom.
"One more doorway," says Solus. "Our goal lies beyond that final barrier."
You nod, following the gaze of his orange eyes to the far end of the cavern. Another dragon is carved in profile upon the stone, its impassive eye watching the end of its worshippers.
Your companions gather at the door, quiet and somber. There are looks of grim satisfaction on many faces, but none wishes to revel in such butchery as they would a victory on the field of battle.
You turn, and see the goblin who opened the entrance upon the surface. Once again he's holding out his shield. But this time he's holding it out to you.
Medea's harp cries out in approval, and there's a murmur of affirmation from the men and women around you.
"Take it," says Roland. "You've led us this far. Let us follow you to the end of this adventure."
You take the shield from the goblin's hands, and gaze at its emblem as though seeing the blue drake for the first time. Then you turn it in your hands, and press its face against the stone.
As before, the dragon is split in two as the stone opens inwards. The tunnel it reveals ahead of you slopes upwards, rising on a steep gradient towards some unseen destination that marks the goal of your journey in the world beneath. You pass the shield back to the goblin with a word of thanks. Then you begin your ascent, your companions around you.
Each step is strenuous, and you sense that it's a pilgrim's path. You imagine beastmen and kobolds treading the same stone, the straining of their legs the price of ascending to kneel and make offerings before their draconic masters, their scaly gods. But this time it's deicide that approaches along the path. And though your muscles should already be weary from marching and combat, from all the hardships and challenges you've encountered, energy courses through your body as that thought comes to you.
The path levels out as you reach the summit, and widens into an antechamber. You find yourself standing before an archway carved into the rock. Beyond it lies a vast blackness, as though it opens the way to the void, to the very death of the universe.
The arch itself is magnificent, and your gaze drinks in its workmanship as you wait for your companions to assemble at the top of the slope. Exquisite designs have been liberated from the shapeless stone by skilled hands, perhaps the very same that brought forth the wyrms upon the doorways. At its apex are the heads of dragons, gazing downwards as though staring at the worshippers who have made the ascent. Along its sides are images of beastmen, kobolds, scorpion-men, ogres, and other monstrosities you don't recognize. Their heads and arms are raised, as though in praise and adoration of the drakes above.
"Battle calls, draken-kasan."
You turn, and see that the troops are standing at the ready -- the last of them taking up their positions.
"Victory or the crystal kingdom," says Raknur, as you stride through the arch.
Waves of light ripple out from your mages' arcane globes, pushing back the darkness, revealing a ledge of rock overlooking a great chasm. To either side you see the beginnings of paths, leading downwards to whatever lies below.
You're about to make for one of those paths when an immense shape rises up in the darkness, just beyond the reach of the expanding light. Screams of warning fill the cavern, as a torrent of flame rushes towards you.
The red drake's throat shudders, and his cheeks draw back as he prepares to unleash another torrent of fire upon you. But when his mouth opens it's with a splutter, a pathetic tongue of flame all that emerges from his crimson maw. It licks out at you, only to flounder against the rune that appears in the air before it -- hovering in front of Aesa's outstretched hand.
Arrows continue to rain on him. Some clatter from his armored flesh, but others find purchase. Spells burst against his hide, blackening his scales, scarring the great leathery expanses of his wings.
One of his legs lies useless, pinned against the surface of the rock, as raw and bloody as a hunk of meat in a butcher's shop. Raknur's sword lies embedded in its flesh, anchoring it to the stone beneath. Solus' claws, Roland's twin blades, and countless other weapons have added their damage to the limb -- hacking into the tendons, crippling it.
The foot of his other foreleg scrabbles out of sight against the side of the rock, in a weak and impotent effort to push himself free.
Medea's song is at a crescendo, filling the cavern, reverberating from the distant walls until it seems as if the universe itself is urging the wyrm's destruction.
"Only missiles and spells can reach his vitals from here," says Marcus, coming over alongside the contingent of warriors who converged on the dragon's trapped limb at his command, in time to ensure its ruination. "Give the command and I'll lead my men to the bottom. If we wound its other legs enough, we can bring it down and finish it."
But Solus is already bounding towards you, understanding your intentions as always.
"Spear!" calls out Marcus, as you reveal your course of action.
A long weapon quickly finds its way into your hand. Aesa and a few of the other nearby casters gather around it as though doting over a baby, and apply their spells.
"Be quick, southlander," Aesa says.
You nod, but before you can reply Solus is already flying.
The red drake glares at you through his one eye. His head moves as though he will snap at you. But innumerable wounds upon his neck and jaw tell on him, and his movements are powerless in their lethargy.
The blade of your spear shines and shimmers with the enchantments hurled on it. Such magics won't last long, not like those introduced into a weapon during its forging -- or else through the long and costly process by which such things may be made permanent. But they will last long enough.
Solus brings you into position alongside the scarred flesh where the dragon's left eye once was -- where perhaps some demi-god's blade cleaved millennia ago. In that place, where there's no eyeball to shield his malevolent brain, you drive the weapon.
"This is what we came for?" you ask.
Yes," replies Solus. "This is what fate was guiding us towards."
You gaze around the chamber, at the pink orbs piled like giant pearls.
"What are these, draken-kasan?"
You turn to the entrance, where Raknur and the others are entering. Your route to the bottom atop Solus was far swifter than theirs along the paths cut into the rock.
"Dragon eggs," you reply.
Your companions gather around you. Those who were there in Burden's Rest gaze in recognition, having seen that which Solus hatched from in the square of the little town. The others stare in wonder, knowing that few humans will ever lay eyes on such things. But all gaze in trepidation. For each egg represents a dragon waiting to be born.
"Each of these could harbor another Erebus," says Solus.
"Or another Solus," you reply.
"Perhaps..." he says. "But the threat they pose is too great."
He turns to the others, an intent look in his orange eyes.
Many passages lead from the great caverns that are now the resting place of their crimson guardian, each one a potential route taken by the dragons and their minions in their attack upon the surface. One may stretch all the way to Nordent, and if so you can only imagine how long that underground odyssey took Kalaxia. The stealthiest and swiftest of your scouts have been sent to investigate them. Based on the places in West Kruna the dragons began their attacks, you and your companions are certain that at least one will provide a shorter route back to the surface than retracing your steps.
And so you make camp in one of the expansive caverns, that limbs might be rested, meals eaten, and wounds tended to while you await the return of the scouts. After a time spent bantering among the troops, you and Roland move to a quiet corner to share a drink and speak of what you've seen and done this day. It's then that Raknur appears, looming over where the two of you sit.
"It is time, sword-taker."
You look up, and it's a moment before you understand his meaning. So much has happened over the last few hours that what came before seems distant, almost unreal. But as realization dawns, you rise to your feet.
"After everything that's happened?" you say, your tongue barely able to force the words past the raging emotions in you breast.
"Oaths have been sworn, draken-kasan."
"You've fought together, you've killed a dragon together. The two of you-"
"We fought as true warriors, and one day the crystal kingdom shall hail us both as heroes. But now we must fight."
Roland gets up beside you. He gives a deep sigh, his broad chest rising and falling like a blacksmith's billows.
A deal's a deal," says the adventurer.
"This is insane! You swore an oath twenty years ago, when you were angry, grieving, and didn't even know who Roland was! Is that worth killing over? Dying over?"
"You are a fine human," Raknur says, with a smile. "But you would be a poor oroc."
You open your mouth for an angry retort, but Roland places his hand on your shoulder to silence you.
"Might as well argue with the rock itself," he says. Then he turns to Raknur. "Let's go somewhere quiet. If my friends see me getting the worst of it, they might not be able to stop themselves interfering."
"You speak well," says the oroc. "I expected no less. Let us fight, and the weapon of he who falls shall leave this place in the victor's hand."
Roland looks at you, a smile on his rugged face.
"Don't do anything stupid. If he wins, he gets to walk out of here with this sword." He taps the hilt of the weapon on the left side of his belt. "And you won't stop him."
You nod, biting back angry words. Roland won't break his oath, and you won't insult him by breaking it for him.
With that the oroc bows his head to you, and strides away. Roland follows, and the two of them walk across the cavern side by side.
You wait alongside your companions, all your eyes upon the entrance where the two warriors disappeared. The orocs from Raknur's clan stand some distance away, their gazes fastened in the same direction.
Medea's fingers dance across her strings, playing a soft symphony. Its haunting melody settles over you like a pall. Then it rises into a sudden flourish, as a familiar figure appears, an orange sword in his hand.
As one, you and your companions, along with the orocs, surge towards him.
Blood stains his chest, and his movements are slow. He gives a slight grimace with each step. You gesture towards the nearest healer -- but as he approaches, the adventurer raises his hand and stops him in his tracks.
He looks to the orocs, whose crystal-studded faces are impassive, and extends the orange crystal sword towards them.
"Take this back to your clan, and make sure his boy gets it."
"We cannot," replies one of the orocs. "It is yours by the terms of your arrangement, and it would dishonor Raknur in the crystal kingdom if we were to accept it. Nor would Jurgash be willing to take it."
Roland nods, as though expecting this. He passes the crystal weapon to his other hand, and draws the sword from the left of his belt.
"Then give him this," he says.
The oroc's eyes widen as he accepts the weapon. He bows, and Roland does the same -- wincing once more. Then the adventurer limps away, slipping the orange sword into the empty place at his belt, and gestures for the healer to follow him.
You fall into step beside him, taking his arm and helping to bear some of his muscular bulk.
"Waste of a damn fine warrior," he sighs, grimacing as his chest moves.
You remain silent, not knowing what to say. As you approach the troops, one of the goblin healers approaches. She drapes a fur cloak on the ground, and you help Roland lower himself onto it. He lies back, and sighs once more as the two healers begin to work on his wounds.
"Tell me about how you got that sword," you say, crouching down beside him, gesturing over your shoulder to where the oroc stands holding Rogar's Dream.
"Already told you that," he grunts.
"Give me the long version this time," you reply.
A faint smile appears on his face. He never could resist telling one of his adventuring stories.
"Like most good tales, it began with a drink..."
You sit beside him, and listen to his words as the healers mend his flesh.
"Have you come this far and faced so many foes only to fail now, human?" Medea cries out, a score of pure admonition emanating from her harp.
"She's right. You can't fail, not when you're so close. The dragon must die..."
- Normal Difficulty - 800 hp
- 53/68/53/62/58 damage received @ 1582(625) Defense and 520(100) health
- Hard Difficulty - 1120 hp
- damage taken 54-69 @ ~2400 Defense
- Legendary Difficulty - 1600 hp
- Nightmare Difficulty - 2880 hp
- damage taken > 450 @ 2056(250) Defense
- Max damage on all difficulties is 455