First line challenge from Pete Sutton
The dragon was grinning at me.
The dragon was grinning at me.
That was worrying to be sure. The rest of the group were behind me, far enough back to escape its fiery breath but close enough to cast spells or fire arrows.
I was carrying so much magic that the glow alone filled this half of the cave, Oswald our powerful mage was able to read his spell books just by sitting next to me.
We had spent a year gathering the items we would need this day.
The battle with the Undead of Chillsom pass where Brother Talbot had turned the vampires allowing the rest of us to kill the ghouls and zombies and lay claim to the Helm of Protection.
The storming of the Ruined Wizard tower in Zalkreen Marsh, our locksmith Cooper disarmed a score of lethal traps and was able to steal the shield of Immunity to Fire from the top of the tower while we kept the guardians busy.
All those errands and quests we undertook for the Bluewater Alchemists guild for potions of resistance to fire.
The little journey to the fallen Elf city of Cael Hu’lork to claim the spear of Red Dragons Bane from the crypt of the last Elvish Prince of that city.
A dozen other quests and adventures. We had faced death a hundred times and fought every form of creature or monster.
But we were ready. The dragon that had attacked our home city would die today and it would die by my hand. I Sir Ambrose of Kael would serve to bring the vengeance on the city to this foul beast.
~
We had been deep in the forgotten forests hunting the ghost stag of x’ran when a message spell had found us. The city fathers had called us to return and defend the city, they had not known where we were but the temple could send a message to Brother Talbot and so word had reached us.
We left at once, spell summoned steeds to carry us tirelessly across the many miles. Three lands we crosses, racing past city or town in our haste.
It was near dusk when we reached our home, our birth place. The fires were mostly out by then but parts of the old quarter still burned, the flames high above the ruins of the south wall. A Dragon they told us as they came running to greet us. Word spread ahead of us, the heroes have returned, they will save us.
To think that it was a mere two years ago when we had gathered in the Broken Sword Inn, our weapons and armour piled onto one of the old and much marked tables. A last meal and a last pint before we set out to find adventure.
I remember the day well; the knee length mail shirt I wore was bright where I had scoured the rust from the links but the right arm ended near the shoulder in a ragged line of rings, old damage from an old battle. My axe was a hand me down I had taken from the old armoury the militia used.
Oswald wearing his plain grey robe, much patched. A dagger at his belt and a handful of the weakest spells in his head.
Cooper, short and skinny wearing leathers much too big for him but with daggers and knives hidden everywhere and half the merchants in town watching him leave to be sure he was gone for real.
Brother Oswald with a gleaming breastplate and shield given to him by his order and the old quarterstaff that was his only weapon beside his faith.
They had laughed at us that day, we were fools. Adventurers they said, you will die inside some creatures belly. Live in the wilderness, what is wrong with the comfort of the city. You will starve in a week. You will be killed, we have seen you fight and you are no more than untrained children.
All that and more they had called after us.
Yet now they hurried out to greet us and beg us to save them. What a difference two years makes.
I led the group into the city, towards the council chamber where the Elders would be. My warhorse clad in mithril armour pushing through the crowd that fell back before us. My full plate bright in the light of sunset and magic.
The others behind me likewise clad in much wealth and magic, we had done well, slain many enemies and gained much in the way of loot to sell or to use.
So we had met the elders and they had told us of a mighty dragon who had set the town on fire and looted much of its wealth, they told us of the dragon’s message, pay a king’s ransom in gold and silver and magic each year or the city would be destroyed.
They told us how mighty the dragon was. But we had a year till it would return. A year to do what we did best, kill things and loot them. Sages, seers, spells and libraries were used to guide us to those monsters with treasures most useful to our quest.
A year save a day since the last attack and we were ready. My shield and helm carried protective enchantments, every protective spell known to our mage and priest had been cast upon me. The spear bound with powerful enchantments to slay this fiery beast sat easy in my grip. Every one of us had drunk deep of the potions we had procured.
So we had travelled to its lair, walked unharmed through the wall of magical fire that guarded its cave and slaughtered its many servants with ease and speed.
Now we stood in front of the beast, it cowered in the darkness at the far side of its cave, only its teeth white against the darkness reflected the magic glow of all my items.
So why was the soon to be dead dragon grinning at me.
Then with a scrap of claws on stone and a rustle of scales like shields it stood upon legs like trees, then it stepped forward to meet us and the light of my many magic’s gleamed on its scaly hide.
Its blue scaly hide!
The dragon was grinning at me.
The dragon was grinning at me.
That was worrying to be sure. The rest of the group were behind me, far enough back to escape its fiery breath but close enough to cast spells or fire arrows.
I was carrying so much magic that the glow alone filled this half of the cave, Oswald our powerful mage was able to read his spell books just by sitting next to me.
We had spent a year gathering the items we would need this day.
The battle with the Undead of Chillsom pass where Brother Talbot had turned the vampires allowing the rest of us to kill the ghouls and zombies and lay claim to the Helm of Protection.
The storming of the Ruined Wizard tower in Zalkreen Marsh, our locksmith Cooper disarmed a score of lethal traps and was able to steal the shield of Immunity to Fire from the top of the tower while we kept the guardians busy.
All those errands and quests we undertook for the Bluewater Alchemists guild for potions of resistance to fire.
The little journey to the fallen Elf city of Cael Hu’lork to claim the spear of Red Dragons Bane from the crypt of the last Elvish Prince of that city.
A dozen other quests and adventures. We had faced death a hundred times and fought every form of creature or monster.
But we were ready. The dragon that had attacked our home city would die today and it would die by my hand. I Sir Ambrose of Kael would serve to bring the vengeance on the city to this foul beast.
~
We had been deep in the forgotten forests hunting the ghost stag of x’ran when a message spell had found us. The city fathers had called us to return and defend the city, they had not known where we were but the temple could send a message to Brother Talbot and so word had reached us.
We left at once, spell summoned steeds to carry us tirelessly across the many miles. Three lands we crosses, racing past city or town in our haste.
It was near dusk when we reached our home, our birth place. The fires were mostly out by then but parts of the old quarter still burned, the flames high above the ruins of the south wall. A Dragon they told us as they came running to greet us. Word spread ahead of us, the heroes have returned, they will save us.
To think that it was a mere two years ago when we had gathered in the Broken Sword Inn, our weapons and armour piled onto one of the old and much marked tables. A last meal and a last pint before we set out to find adventure.
I remember the day well; the knee length mail shirt I wore was bright where I had scoured the rust from the links but the right arm ended near the shoulder in a ragged line of rings, old damage from an old battle. My axe was a hand me down I had taken from the old armoury the militia used.
Oswald wearing his plain grey robe, much patched. A dagger at his belt and a handful of the weakest spells in his head.
Cooper, short and skinny wearing leathers much too big for him but with daggers and knives hidden everywhere and half the merchants in town watching him leave to be sure he was gone for real.
Brother Oswald with a gleaming breastplate and shield given to him by his order and the old quarterstaff that was his only weapon beside his faith.
They had laughed at us that day, we were fools. Adventurers they said, you will die inside some creatures belly. Live in the wilderness, what is wrong with the comfort of the city. You will starve in a week. You will be killed, we have seen you fight and you are no more than untrained children.
All that and more they had called after us.
Yet now they hurried out to greet us and beg us to save them. What a difference two years makes.
I led the group into the city, towards the council chamber where the Elders would be. My warhorse clad in mithril armour pushing through the crowd that fell back before us. My full plate bright in the light of sunset and magic.
The others behind me likewise clad in much wealth and magic, we had done well, slain many enemies and gained much in the way of loot to sell or to use.
So we had met the elders and they had told us of a mighty dragon who had set the town on fire and looted much of its wealth, they told us of the dragon’s message, pay a king’s ransom in gold and silver and magic each year or the city would be destroyed.
They told us how mighty the dragon was. But we had a year till it would return. A year to do what we did best, kill things and loot them. Sages, seers, spells and libraries were used to guide us to those monsters with treasures most useful to our quest.
A year save a day since the last attack and we were ready. My shield and helm carried protective enchantments, every protective spell known to our mage and priest had been cast upon me. The spear bound with powerful enchantments to slay this fiery beast sat easy in my grip. Every one of us had drunk deep of the potions we had procured.
So we had travelled to its lair, walked unharmed through the wall of magical fire that guarded its cave and slaughtered its many servants with ease and speed.
Now we stood in front of the beast, it cowered in the darkness at the far side of its cave, only its teeth white against the darkness reflected the magic glow of all my items.
So why was the soon to be dead dragon grinning at me.
Then with a scrap of claws on stone and a rustle of scales like shields it stood upon legs like trees, then it stepped forward to meet us and the light of my many magic’s gleamed on its scaly hide.
Its blue scaly hide!