The Dragon

We replenished our stocks in Phandalin and paid a short visit to sister Garaele who confirmed Grum’s first speculations about the magical items we had found and bade us greet Archie once we saw him again. Then we set out towards Thundertree, anxious of what lay ahead with hardly an idea of what we might find upon our return.
 
Two days later we arrived in the ruined village. A few miles before we already noticed the absence of the before ever-present sounds of birds, rodents and other wildlife, the dragon clearly had claimed his territory and all within. Grum once more ritually spread dirt across all our faces, magically imploring surrounding trees and other natural elements to lend their shadows to our aid and hide us from undesired attention. Thus enchanted, we began sneaking towards the first houses, immediately heading towards the one we encountered the druid Reidoth in last time.
We found the door to be locked and could hear no movement coming from inside. Curiously however, Grum noticed a brown squirrel glancing down from the roof. It was the first animal we had seen in a good few hours and quickly vanished from sight when it noticed our attention. Then we heard steps approaching on the other side of the door and the familiar face of Reidoth peered through the door before ushering us in quickly. He explained that the dragon was indeed still here, slowly establishing its lair in the old tower. Over the last weeks more men clad in the outfits of the Cult of the Dragon had arrived, setting camp but also going up to the tower. Due to their uniform dress code, the druid was unsure how many of them actually had arrived, but he put it around two hands full. The despise in his voice was very noticeable when speaking about their dealings with the beast, an act that defiled all logic given how treacherous dragons, even worse, green ones were known to be. One could only wonder at the selfish desires that would drive a group of people to such lengths and it was about time that they were put to an end. Kyla knew that there were two main camps within the worship of dragons currently. The first believed, that ultimately the world would be ruled by the undead that were spreading in certain areas of the world which caused them to attempt to conjure draco-liches. The other fraction was aiming to ally the chromatic dragons to use them to purge the world of those they deemed not worthy to live. Thus, the ones we encountered here likely belonged to the latter group.
Our general plan still involved Kyla’s suggestion of laying a trap somewhere in the vicinity with some bait and a glyph she could draw. Other than that, we agreed that ideally, we would not take on the dragon and his henchmen all at once but spread them out, otherwise there was little hope for us to begin with. Kyla mentioned the possibility of killing one of the cultists and then questioning his body, at which Reidoth turned up his nose, expressing he did not appreciate this new, holy magic, much preferring Grum’s adherence to the old ways. Still, it might have been a valid strategy to pursue to get more of an advantage on the dragon.
 
For the time being, Grum and I volunteered to scout out the buildings in the village to see if we could find out anything about the cultists. Again, Grum made sure we would pass through the village without leaving any traces behind while I turned both of us invisible. Indeed, in the building that we had a skirmish in the last time we were here, we heard three voices talking silently on the inside, too low for us to understand what they might be talking about. The remainder of the buildings on the eastern side of Thundertree were completely empty. With these findings we returned to our friends to discuss our further actions.
We decided it would be ideal to surprise the cultists currently hovelled up in the house we saw now while they were few and then hold out until we found an opportunity to deal with the remaining men and ultimately the dragon. Hidden by Grum’s spell, we scurried back to the hut and spread out around the two entrance ways. On a shared signal, I implored on Mystra’s gift to draw out every possible noise happening within the chamber we knew our foes in, balancing out every sound that would otherwise have alarmed their companions in the tower of our presence. The three cultists were taken by complete surprise and stood no chance as Grum in his giant toad shape and Nysqwen shredded them to bits within only a few heart beats and before any of the rest of us could even raise our weapons. The first part of our liberation of Thundertree was a great success, albeit at the cost of the brutally slaughtered cultists. After the recent adventures me and my friends had undertaken, we had grown used to the sight of bloody bodies, even more so than one would have from living in Neverwinter. Still, I could not help but feel a brief moment of remorse for the poor souls that had given in to the temptation of the cult yet not even had the chance to draw their weapons. But it had to be done, if we wanted to prevent this cult from spreading and the dragon from corrupting more of the area and eventually growing too powerful for anyone to handle.
We did not find anything on the bodies that would tell us more about the cult or its intentions, nor any valuables. Kyla now went ahead out towards the back of the building, as she noticed that would make for an ideal location to place the trap. In the meantime, Grum, Teynos and myself went on another scouting trip, this time towards the north-western edge of the ruins. While we found all buildings to be empty, new footprints had disturbed dust and mud. Likely, the cultists on their path to take over the village had searched through them for anything useful or any potential threats. On our way back, we came across one of the small living plants that we had to fight off the last time we were here. I could not tell if this was the same one, we had tried to talk and sing to, but it remained where it stood amongst the bushes, neither attacking nor approaching us in any capacity. I had to almost pull Teynos back towards the others, otherwise he would have teased it long enough for it potentially drawing unwanted attention towards us.
 
When we reunited with our companions, Kyla had already finished her preparations and Grum offered to head out and hunt for some animal to use as bait. He came back a few hours later, empty handed and disgruntled murmuring in his beard that there was nothing around for miles and that there was no point in the bait and that this entire venture was pointless to begin with. Nysqwen asked him if his fine nose as a wolf did not help him at all to at least find tracks when being out there. I could feel the fury burning up in my old friend when he regarded her with a long, ice-cold look to the malice of which she seemed completely oblivious. Without so much as a word, he turned on his heel and headed out again. Clearly, he did not consider assuming the shape of a natural predator for hunting game to begin with. Two hours later he returned, carrying the corpse of a deer in his snarling jaw.
He then set out to tell Reidoth about our plan. He did not find the fellow druid in his home but left a message that he promised only few would know to read. ‘Ere he could head back, he said he had heard commotion from the tower and saw a gigantic lizard head lifted above the ruin. Then the dragon took to air and flew away in a northern direction. With Grum’s save return, we used the final hour of the day to go over our plans once more and then arranged guards for the night. When Nysqwen announced she would take first watch, I sensed an opportunity and offered my help during that shift. Kyla and Teynos would take the second and Grum the final period of the night.
I took out the lyra once more, and weaved the familiar, calming melody around us all as we bedded down in the cultists’ house. This time, I was surprised to find slight imperfections in the shape, minor folds like in crumpled cloths. And I felt them coming from my own unease given the conversation that was bound to happen. My friends soon fell asleep as proved by their regular breathing (and Teynos’s snoring) but before I could say something, Nysqwen pointed out a figure that was hastily making its way towards the tower, jumping from bush to bush and only occasionally betrayed by the moonlight that was reflected on its mask. It was impossible to say where the figure had come from but the urgency in its pace meant nothing good. Had we been too loud? All the more important to be on high alert for the following hours!
For now, Nysqwen and I sat down in our tiny hut, and we began to talk about the events of the last few days in a low voice. We sat there for a while, the conversation many a time paused to inspect our surroundings. And eventually, I managed to gather my courage. I began my story on a cold and unpleasant evening, many winters ago and did my best to make sure she understood the implications of my words. When I finished, she regarded me with a long, inquisitive look. Her bright eyes seemed to glow faintly while I could do nothing but hopelessly wait for her reply. Then, a smile entered her face.
A little while later, we woke up Kyla and Teynos and got our share of sleep.
 
We were torn from Morpheus’s arms by a thunderous roar long before the sun had risen again. The dragon had returned for the night and his assertion of dominance was enough to make us question every life choice that has led to the looming encounter. Teynos informed us that they had seen four further cultists enter the tower a while earlier and Grum had noticed a faint mist that had begun covering the ground all throughout the village. Kyla said that this might be the first symptom of the dragon setting up and infusing his lair and that it was about time to stop him from doing so.
Once the sun had risen on an almost cloudless sky, Nysqwen prepared the deer for the trap, stuffing it with several of the acid vials we had from Archie and placing it out as a lure for the flying lizard. She had just finished and joined us back inside, when two cultists came down from the tower and headed directly towards us. Immediately, all conversations stopped as we tensely went for our weapons and foci, unsure what to expect of this. A good 20 paces before our hideout the figures stopped, drew their blades and demonstratively placed them on the ground. They closed in a little further before calling out to us. They announced that the Great Venomfang had been made aware of our presence and would grant us an audience to learn who was roaming his forest. After a bit of contemplation, we asked for some respite and told them we would get back to them and their master within the hour.
We debated for a bit, Kyla especially was convinced that there was nothing to gain from such a meeting and we would be sure to lose every advantage we had in the prepared trap and being able to pick our battleground. I argued, that if the dragon had accepted this foul following in his realm, he might at least be interested in talking and would not kill us outright. This could give us the advantage of knowing what we actually were dealing with and what their number were. Thus, Nysqwen and I volunteered to go up into the dragon’s den.
 
Tense silence accompanied our departure, Kyla laid her hand on my shoulder one final time, and I could feel some strange force wrap around me like a skin-tight suit. She took her hand from her necklace and nodded us farewell with a stern look. We walked towards the looming ruined tower, for the first time getting a proper look at the structure without having to hide in some shadows. It must once have been an impressive building, built elevated on a hill, overlooking the village. Now the top section had crumbled long enough ago that any scattered pieces of brickwork were overgrown with vegetation. At its entrance, two guards awaited us with raised crossbows. When we arrived, they lowered their weapons and bade us enter the structure. Despite the time of day, it was eerily dark in most parts. Old furniture, long demolished was still lining the walls; a number of beds and mats had been added more recently and might have served as lodging for the upper ranks of the cultists. Four of them were scattered around the tower and had been talking in the dragon tongue amongst themselves before they noticed our arrival and fell silent. Most of the area over which the tower once had risen was still covered in rubble, splintered wooden planks and dust, but to one side a large wooden chest spilled some metallic gleaming rivers from a not fully closed lid. And upon some crossbeams at the far side awaited the dragon.
The beast was enormous, a good twenty feet from head to claw. Completely covered in green scales, his long neck ended in a massive lizard-like head with uncomfortably intelligent slitted eyes that peered down at us. He opened his leathery wings as far as the walls of the structure allowed and revealed an astounding amount of razor-sharp teeth as he opened his mouth and bade us welcome in the lair of Venomfang, curious what had brought us here at his feet.
I had been in many perilous situations over the years. Even more so recently with my new-found friends and I still frequently have nightmares of our encounter with the banshee Agatha. But never before had I felt so insignificant in the presence of another mortal being. The notion that humanoid races claimed Faerûn for themselves seemed straight up ludicrous given both the physical as well as charismatic presence that this dragon claimed – and it was only supposed to be a young one! The mixture of awe and terrible fear made my heartbeat so loud up my throat, I would be astounded was it not heard by everyone in that chamber in the pause that followed the dragon’s words.
Finally, I reclaimed possession over at least my tongue and replied to the dragon as close to the truth as I dared that we had heard about his greatness and had been too curious not to make his acquaintance. In the following conversation I tried as much as possible to appeal to his ego and flattered him wherever I saw an opportunity. My singular goal was to leave this room alive and with Nysqwen. In the end, I provided him with the false pretence we would prove our worth as his servants in bringing him a gift worthy of his position which seemed to please him enough that he sent us out to fetch that trophy. With a bow, Nysqwen and myself left the tower and returned to our encampment, but it was only when we were out of sight of the guards that I allowed the tremble to claim my knees and my friend had to guide me the rest of the way back. We explained to the others what we had learned and Grum gave me some of his personal hip flask to calm my nerves.
For the rest of the day, we pretended to be packing our things to set out and fulfil our promise to the dragon. We did not see any of the cultists leave the tower at any point nor any traces of Reidoth. Just after dusk, the sky tinted in the reds and violets of a dying sun, a large shadow rose over the tower and Venomfang once again set out to hunt. This was our chance if we wanted to deal with the cultists and the dragon separately! Quickly we hushed to the hill where one of the fanatics stepped out when we approached to ask for our intentions. With the curling of a single finger, I ordered the door to fall shut. Nysqwen immediately pulled the man into a headlock and squeezed until he fell motionless to the ground. This one at least had managed to reach for his side sword, unlike his friends on the day before. Once inside the tower we rushed into the main chamber, but the remaining cultists were already waiting for our arrival. A white shine taking her eyes, our dragonborn friend uttered a war cry and split the skull of the nearest enemy almost in two with a single blow before she suddenly stopped mid-stride, seemingly unable to move. One of the other men yelled something in draconic and an ominous black sword materialised adjacent to Grum. He veered into the shape of a hyena and felled one more while the other cultists who also began muttering phrases, cursing when Teynos did not stop in the same manner as Nysqwen but summoning a second dark sword. One of them laid a hand on Grum from which he yelled and recoiled in massive pain and reverted to his dwarven form. These men were notably harder to kill then their henchmen and while they all showed visible signs of pain upon our onslaught, they did their best to repay us in kind. Just in time I managed to negate one’s attempt to stun Nysqwen, Grum and myself and Teynos sent the first of the priests to the ground. Soon after, Kyla and I managed to take out another while Grum in his giant toad shape and Nysqwen wrestled the last one down. Breathing heavily and bleeding from a multitude of smaller and larger wounds, we quickly looked around for any potentially hidden dangers. Our scurrying precipitously came to a halt when a loud crashing sound rang up from the village, followed by the loudest and angriest roar any of us had ever heard. The dragon had returned, likely coming across the prepared deer, and was not pleased by what he had found instead.
Thunderous battering of enormous wings made clear that the beast soon would descend upon us. I just managed to support Nysqwen by magically accelerating her movements, Kyla protected Teynos with a similar enchantment as she had me earlier when I went to speak to the dragon. Then our terrible foe arrived. Ferocious with anger he crashed into the upper beams of the tower, opened his huge maw, and spit a sickly greenish ball against us. Searing pain instantly claimed every inch of my body. I was sure to have withstand the most devastating effects of his poison, but I still screamed in almost unbearable pain as it burned through my veins. When I looked up, another ball exploded amongst us, and sweet darkness relieved my mind from the soaring agony.
Something was different this time. I still heard the whispers of temptation and wrath, voices filled with spite and hatred for each and everything in the world. But it seemed somewhat more distant this time. Somehow, I managed to cling to Nysqwen’s last words during our watch the night before, urging myself to fight against the waves of condemnation. And through the darkness a hand reached out to me, grabbed me by the scruff and yanked me back into the realm of consciousness. Vision returned, yet it came with the realisation that the pain had not subsided in the slightest though my mind seemed a little more sheltered against the onslaught. Kyla was bent over me, greeted me with a smile and a nod and turned back to face off again with the dragon. He was just sinking teeth as long as a hand into Nysqwen’s shoulder but her responding roar was more tinted by fury than pain. Nysqwen and Teynos covered the dragon in slashes and punches, Grum who reverted back into his own shape placed a hand on Nysqwen’s back and I could see some of the more devastating looking punctures closing as if covered by bark-like material. Black energy whirled from Kyla towards the green dragon who simultaneously spit more poison at Grum, Nysqwen and Teynos, all of which miraculously survived the attack. The massive glaive drew deep gashes through the flanks of the beast and for the first time his screeching seemed to carry a note of fear. Teynos used the created openings and plunged his fists deep into the wounds. Again and again, they battered at the opened flesh finding vital points in the dragon’s organs and with one final roar, the massive creature collapsed. It hit the ground in the same instance as Teynos, who collapsed where he stood although no obvious wounds would give away what happened to him.
Kyla reached him first and determined that he was not in any mortal danger but rather seemed as if gripped by a deep slumber. What a remarkable evolution the half-orc had made to this stage. Not only had he challenged and defeated, albeit with some help, the Tanaruk of Yurtrus but he now had killed a dragon with his bare hands! A song of his achievements was overdue, and I will take care that when we next are in a tavern his deeds shall be known by the world and spread by word-of-mouth, giving rise to a new hero for the children of Neverwinter, one that for once was green of skin. For save measure, Kyla still healed the outward wounds of our friend and Grum summoned a spectral and slightly glowing toad that exuded a warm, healing energy in its own right. For the moment, we laid him on one of the intact beds and began to look through what the dragon had left behind.
Grum and Kyla began removing claws, teeth, poisonous glands, scales and some of the hide from the slain beast. Meanwhile, Nysqwen and I searched through the chest. Amongst hundreds upon hundreds of coins we found five bloodstones, four further somewhat translucent gems, a handful of silver chalices with blueish moonstones, a finely ornamented hourglass and three parchment scrolls. Two of them seemed to contain some arcane symbols and were likely spell scrolls similar to ones we had found before. But neither Grum, nor Kyla nor I were able to understand their meaning. Perhaps these would be of worth to Archie, or at least the Harpers. The third contained a draconic poem that Nysqwen translated. It talked about the genesis of this world and how it was inherently tied to the creation and fate of dragons. Both exhibit mutual influence and are unable to exist without the other. It mentioned three primordial dragon gods, Tiamat, mother of chromatic dragons, Bahamut, father of metallic dragons and finally Sardior, master of the fabled gem dragons. I had heard this last name only in the odd fairy tale and never paid it much heed, this was the first more concrete evidence that in fact there was a triptych of deities. Nysqwen pulled an oblong object free of the heaps of coins that turned out to be a slightly rusted heavy battle axe. Despite the rust the craftsmanship was unmistakably immense, fine chasing was inlaid into the hilt and framed a set of dwarven runes. Grum quickly identified them as meaning “Hit Ho!”, a known dwarven wordplay amongst their warriors on the more commonly known “Hey Ho!” phrase of dwarven miners. On none of the slain cultists could we find any valuables, all they had once owned had found its way axiomatically onto the dragon’s hoard.
 
Nysqwen carried Teynos on our way out of the tower. The last light was just fading away, silence once more returning to Thundertree. We noticed a squirrel was eyeing us from a nearby branch and I bowed in its direction in greeting. I swear I saw the rodent roll its eyes as it skittered down the tree, vanishing from sight. Then, Reidoth exited the bushes, bowing in turn and grumpily acknowledging that we were not just all talk. Seeing the condition of Teynos who had been sat on the ground by Nysqwen, he stepped over to him and laid a palm on his brow, murmuring phrases under his breath. Unexpectedly, the half-orc roared aloud, eerily similar to the dragon only minutes ago, eyes opened wide and stared at us. He began talking but somehow only the hissing language of dragon kin came over his lips! Nysqwen translated that he said he had been the dragon, had seen scenes of his life from when he hatched from his egg until he found this village and claimed it his new home. Also, he did not believe us that we could not understand him and asked why we would prank him like that after all we had just been through. Clearly, he was unaware of his own new capability. Reidoth explained, that after defeating a dragon it was not unheard of that the beast would involuntarily impart some form of gift upon their opponent. He would need to learn how to apply these new gifts first, before he would be able to fully control them. Then, Reidoth took Grum to the side while we tried to calm down our friend and explained to him our side of the situation. Nysqwen seemed especially affectionate for his condition and understandably so. Finally, she had found someone she could speak with in her own tongue.
 
We rested through the night in Thundertree and left the ruins with a final goodbye to Reidoth to leave for Neverwinter. For the majority of the walk on that day, Teynos was a few steps behind the group, seemingly deep in meditation. In the evening he informed us of all the mushrooms he had collected along the way and that it was time for a proper supper again. And indeed, all of us could understand him this time! He was learning quickly to adapt to this new language that had been given to him.
A few hours ago, we reached the walls of the city. Nysqwen had carried Venomfang’s head all this way and none of the guards at the gate asked us any questions when we entered, the sight and at least Nysqwen’s position amongst the Lords’ Alliance made certain things a lot easier. Now we are back, finally safely behind familiar walls and in proper beds. Irakin seemed not more perturbed then usually when he opened the door, so I assumed that nothing untoward had happened in our absence. Tomorrow we shall once more convene and discuss our next steps. I do not really know what path would be the right one to take, if there even was so much as the right path. All I knew is that wherever this band of adventurers decided to turn their stride, that was the path that I as well would take.