For all the pressure and eroding power of the water crashing down on top of it from the broken sepulchre far above them, the bones had remained as strong and as imposing as ever. The leering, draconic skull twice the height of a man and more than that in its length faced him, its mouth snapped closed, its empty eye sockets staring into eternity as rivulets of water washed over and around the skull. The chunk of rock that had doomed the fell unlife of the dragon still jutted from the back of its ribcage, pinning it to the ground from whence it had broken the spells of protection guarding the infernal furnace that housed its soul, allowing the life-giving waters to douse the foul phylactery and end the dragon. There were still ancient blades and weapons sticking out of the sides of its back and ribcage, the remains of others who had tried to slay the beast that could not be felled by swords or spears. Those had not been removed, but the statue upon which he had ridden down to end its life was taken away to parts unknown.