5 - Recovering Lost Sages [Story]

It was late in the afternoon, when, with a rumble, one of the two dragonlike creatures guarding the steep sided crater turned and growled a warning of an outsider's approach. The men clustered around the collection of bones and stone stopped, some picking up clubs.

"Wait," called out Agrid, the dig leader. Smaller and more slender than a human, Agrid grabbed his crossbow and scrambled toward the drakes. "Calm down, my pretties. Not every visitor is an enemy."

Calling out in a loud voice he said "Douven? Is that you?"

"No, but we are seeking him," called out a loud voice in return. A dwarf in scale mail and a dragonborn in battered, bloodstained plate emerged, and Agrid could see several human sized creatures behind them. "Where is he?" called the dwarf.

"I have not seen him for two days. He left for more supplies but should be back soon. I feared you were kobolds -- I have lost four men this month," Agrid responded. "Come forward, I will tell my drakes to let you pass."

Agrid noticed that the groups' hands remained close to hilts and shields. He backed away and latched his crossbow on a hook upon his dark leather belt. "Heel, my pretties," Agrid called. The drakes looked back at him, then sat upon their scaled haunches.

"I have a map I can share of where he was supposed to go. If you want, I can show it to you and you can be on your way."

The group talked among themselves, then proceeded slowly towards the crater.

As they reached the entrance of the crater, Agrid called out reassuringly "Stay, my pretties. Stay."

Well trained, upon hearing the keyword the drakes lunged forward, their powerful jaws slavering. Agrid swung his crossbow up and ran forward.

* * * *

Even without Naruel's admonitions, the group had been half-expecting a trap. Anticipating the attack, they weaved and dodged the sling stone and crossbow bolt that were launched at them from the grey skinned demi-human and a small figure barely visible on the other side of the crater. Farad stood his ground against one of the two drakes. The second struck at Bailyn. Bailyn growled in rage as a massive blow by his maul was avoided by the remarkably agile creature, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of brown hair and the reflection of the setting sun upon Madeleine's polished greatsword. She struck at its flank and as it bellowed in rage and tried to avoid further harm from the deadly human, it opened itself up to a blow from the dwarf, who struck hard.

The miners charged the group, wielding clubs and sticks. They were outmatched. A mystical bolt from Wing sent one into the dirt and two more fell soon after, arrows protruding from them.

Agrid cursed in frustration as his bolt flew wide again. He screamed at his halfling companion, "Get closer. You are too far!"

As the drake's sharp talons scraped across Bailyn's chest, Madeleine winced, but the stout dwarf did not even flinch. "You call that a wound, beastie? I'll show you a wound!" he cried and brought his maul down with both hands on the drake's now exposed head. There was a sickening crunch and everyone around was covered in a spray of red and grey goo and liquid. The dying drake stumbled, and crumbled from a final bolt from Wing.

Blood pounding in her ears Madeleine hurtled across the stony ground of the crater and leapt on top of the second drake, focused on Farad. "To me!" she cried and plunged her greatsword down, deep through scale and into the beasts' body. It screamed and bucked.

The drake's teeth snapped perilously close to Madeleine as she struggled to pull her blade free. She heard the beasts' body shake once as one of Naruel's arrows plunged into it and again as Bailyn was by her side, swinging his maul ferociously. Suddenly the drake was lying still. As she stood up she saw Wing finishing up one of the last of the miners and Bailyn and Farad in the center of the crater, engaging the leader of the ambush and the sling wielder. Not wanting to be left out, she charged

Agrid scrambled back as the paladin, now free of his pet drakes, pursued him, then dropped his crossbow and grabbed his vicious warpick and sliced the dragonborn across the leg. "Kill this bastard!" he yelled. His heart pounded as he saw the rest of the group charging towards him, magic blasts and bolts flying at his halfling companion. The dwarf appeared from nowhere and swung viciously at him, but Agrid was fast.

Farad's sense of satisfaction at striking a solid blow to the dark eye, grey-skinned creature dissolved as it gave him an evil grin and disappeared.

"Regroup! They stealth!" Madeleine cried, her green eyes flashing with excitement, "we almost have them. Don't let down your ..."

Before she could finish her sentence she staggered as she felt an explosive searing pain deep into her back.

Wing fired a magical bolt at the skulk clinging to Madeleine's back. Naruel drew upon all her strength and fired arrow after arrow. Smoking from mystical energy and protruding arrows, it let loosed its hold and Madeleine stumbled forward, blood flowing from a gaping dagger wound in her back, but still alive and conscious. Before Agrid could administer a final blow Bailyn was there. "You'll pay for that!" muttered Bailyn as his maul crushed leather, bone and flesh.

Perrin, halfling mercenary, always knew he'd die by the sword, but had never hoped it would happen so soon. Now, hopelessly outnumbered, desperately avoiding swing after swing of a dragon man's warhammer, he less felt anger or fear than regret. Of all the ways to die, to die in some forsaken crater rather than in a bejeweled dragon's den or with some royalty dying of his well placed blade, was disappointing. "By Bahamut's Eye, you will face me!" roared the scaly beast as it knocked him back. By the feel of it, his ribs were cracked.

"Fat chance, buddy!" Perrin hissed. The brown haired human girl looked close to falling and if he were to go, he wanted them to have something to remember them by. Ignoring the paladin in his face, Perrin leapt to get a clear view. He hurled a stone.

It flew wide as the dwarf standing beside the girl pushed her out of the way. And as he felt a searing pain rack his body as if a divine presence had admonished his affrontery, Perrin cursed the gods as he faded into blackness.

* * * *

Salvana winced as Bairwin and another local crashed to the ground, spilling off of the other man's shoulders, knocking plates and cups off of a nearby table, her nimble mind counting the costs -- at least a silver piece of cutlery smashed, probably refills of food and drink for the innocent patrons. She gave a half-pained smile and waved along with the rest of the cheering onlookers as the dwarf spun around with the boisterous young human swordswoman on his shoulders. "Who else will have a go against the champion chicken fighters of Wrafton's Inn?" shouted Madeleine, flushed red with ale.

Still, Salvana knew that the crowd tonight was larger than usual -- starting from late afternoon, work done, curious townfolk had shown up to see the adventurers, who had shown up in the dead of night with Douven Staul ragged but alive and a dwarven warrior as additions. The group had come and gone from their shared room during the day in groups of one or two to runn errands but largely stayed in the room. However, in the evening the whole group had gone down to the common room. The townspeople's patience was further rewarded by the willingness of some of the group to tell of their adventures and to buy rounds of drinks for their appreciative audience.

Back in the corner where they had sat the first night, Wing turned a cracked gemmed mirror in his hands and gazed at the historian-explorer. After a day's rest, the older man looked less bedraggled but still weary, deep circles under his eyes and bruises on his face from his week of captivity.

The mirror was Douven's chief find -- he had found it only hours before his camp was overrun by the men that Wing and his companions had killed the night before -- and they had found it in a pouch on the corpose of the grey-skinned demi-human. By the glyphs and ornamentation Wing had identified it as belonging to a wizard of Nerath. But he knew of no direct connection between the wizards of Nerath and the demonlord Orcus, other than the fact that Orcus had been worshipped for millenia and therefore before and after the Nerathian Empire. Like his stave, the mirror was not ornamental -- it was an implement used for some sort of ritual -- but it had no obvious magical abilities and Wing could not identify even what type of ritual it was used in.

There was also the puzzle of the fact that Douven did not seem to know Farad at all and, while grateful, had seemed genuinely surprised to be rescued at the behest of the religious order of warriors.

"Wing, what do you suggest we do?" Naruel asked. Wing was flattered that she would ask for his advice but not surprised -- Naruel had good judgment and Wing had been the most able to identify the various unusual items they had found thus far.

"Well, Valthrun really did not know anything more about this than I did, so I think we best take this to father. But, if you don't mind me asking, Farad, what exactly was your order's interest in Douven? Douven doesn't know anything about you," the mage asked, putting the mirror away in a pouch.

"Indeed, I have had little dealings with any religious orders," assented Douven.

Wing's ability to read the expressions of his dragon-faced comrade was far from perfect, but he sensed discomfort.

"I suppose I can tell you, seeing as you have assisted me greatly thus far," Farad rumbled. "We received a vague but undeniably authentic divine message that Douven was stumbling upon something related to a great tragedy in my order several years ago. We have been monitoring his recent explorations and sending our agents to track his finds when he disappeared near Winterhaven."

"Several years ago? What was it?" Wing asked.

"We should speak quietly as I have been told it is a sore subject of the town. Eight years ago, the lord of this town, a Sir Keegan, went mad and killed many innocent people before being subdued. He was a man of our order."

"I am sorry to hear that," Wing. "But I am not sure how a two or three hundred year old mirror has anything to do with a paladin's crimes eight years ago." Douven nodded in agreement.

"Sir Keegan went mad while in the keep. Wing, you mentioned that Valthrun mentioned the keep also dated back to the time of the Nerathian empire?" Farad queried.

Wing nodded in assent. "That's true. Lord Padraig's manor house also dates back to that era. We could explore both of those."

"They are many unclear paths here. I am also not sure of how Orcus is involved. But I believe it behooves me to continue to investigate," the dragonborn sighed.

He tossed a small pouch that landed with a clink upon the table and dropped next to it a rolled piece of parchment. "Here are traveling provisions. I believe a caravan is leaving for the south tomorrow. Douven, join it, and make your way south. Bring this report to the first temple of Bahamut you find."

Douven grabbed the pouch and nodded.

"What should we do next?" Wing asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"I will accompany your group -- I believe you are planning on trying to find the remaining kobolds, no?" asked Farad. While Wing had sought Valthrun's advice, Farad had gone to the temple and Naruel had gone to Ninaran to find information on the mirror and the foes they had encountered, Madeleine had gone directly to Lord Padraig and, after bullying her way through the gate, had managed to increase the size of the proferred reward in return for assurances by her that "her band of mighty warriors" would soon rid the area of the kobolds. "It is a worthwhile cause, and may shed further light on this cult of Orcus," Farad explained.

"Your help will be appreciated," Naruel answered. For a moment her eyes looked troubled, but the moment passed. "That is a fight for tomorrow. Tonight, let us enjoy our hard fought victory. Wing, lets go show Maddy and that old dwarf what chicken fighting really means!"