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Tindarien

Just what he didn't want. He mutters under his breath as the dragon takes off. Then Farvi calls a warning. Surely not the dragon! But he trusts his little friend and turns.. to see a halfling??

A quick look around shows that they are not in a good way.

"Gather the injured. This way!"

He calls out to his friends with an urgency in his voice.

"We will come." He speaks to the halfling but his eyes are already raking the sky. He doesn't move. Someone needs to cover their retreat and there are not many in the group that can do that. He has only one spell that can reach the dragon. Chaos bolt is on his lips ready as soon as he sights the creature.

Seyja


Furious and completely unwilling to let the evil wyrm escape, Seyja staggered to her feet. She almost threw her great battleaxe, but she knew she couldn't throw it that far so, as quickly as she could, she unwound her sling from her head and took a sling bullet from the pouch at her waist.

She whirled the sling around her head, took quick aim and let fly.

Then, somewhat coming to her senses, she turned to look at the others.

Zoltan

Stepping in to attack the dragon, he sees it lift off the ground. Quickly swapping weapons he pulls out his longbow and fires at it as many times as he can as it climbs, before it can get out of range. He hears the Halfling, but he stays to provide cover for the others.

(OOC - Neal - I presume since Zoltan didn't get to act last round he should get at least two rounds of attacks before it can move out of range.)

Jex
After a gurgle and a cough he sprung to his feet. He would thank Nestaron later but now he only saw the giant wings flapping away. That would not do. He was adamant that the dragon not get away to lick it's wounds so he stood his ground, pointed at it and unleashed a chaos bolt at the wyrm, hoping that others would attack it too.

D

The dark elf mouthed a vehement word. He quickly stifled it, there was more to be done and the dragon was much more dangerous in the air.

He looked about at the elf wizard's words with a bit of surprise evident on his visage. Recovering quickly he moved to assist the more injured of his compatriots in the indicated direction.

Though he moved with speed and purpose, his hands always hovered near his body ready to unleash a flying blade should the opportunity present itself. He wanted that thing dead, even if it wasn't permanent.

Seyja


Her eyes widened when she saw Weston in such a dire condition. Seeing Almador close by him, she called out.

"Almador, does Weston have a healing potion? He needs to take it... now!"

D

The barbarian woman's words brought him back to the reality of the moment. Reaching into his pouch and pulls the potion he was carrying.

He tried to force his healing potion done Weston's throat.

GM

Weston watched the silver-lined rain clouds shredding over the moutains. The mountains that surrounded Axis on all sides, a gigantic crater with a peak in its centre, the seat of the Dragon Emperor. And between both, the dwellings and workplaces, the momuments, the ampitheatres, the criss-crossing and encircling battlements of the greatest city in the Empire, with the Bronze River flowing through it, out into Azure Bay.

High up in the peaks outside the city, it was said metallic dragons lived, ever watchful for the Empire's enemies. But it was not a time of war. The slopes were coloured by greenery and wildflowers, Spring vibrance that was mirrored in the streets below. Colours were everywhere. Even though it speckled with rain, people were enjoying life again. Buying fashions, decorating their homes, rejoicing.

The fabled Dragon Knights flew regularly from their lofty castle, streamers flowing behind them. But it was pageantry, not warfare.

Only a few years had past since the Priestess had emerged in the South, curing the zombie plague that had ravaged at Dragon Empire for generations. The land and its peoples were rapidly recovering, and had wandered into a time of plenty. So many had died in the plague, died, risen and killed. Entire populations had been wiped out and the old maps were consigned to libraries and archives. The new maps had far less detail on them than before, far fewer settlements.

Beyond the immediate aftermath, however, inevitably the world flourished and with less mouths to feed, there was more to go around. More food, more wealth, more joy.

Weston was one of those joys; one of many babies born soon after the plague was cured. He was young, barely able to button his own jacket, but old enough to be know who he was and what he wanted in life. He was buried in a blue robe, adorned with golden stars, crescent moons and suns. A wizard's robe (if a wizard ever lacked all taste and self-respect), and the young Weston dreamed of being the Archmage and living on his own tower, adrift in the Overworld. There he'd spend his time thrashing giants, riding a flying carpet, making weather for the folk below, but other than that, mainly doing what his mum and dad told him to.

His mother had remarked that wanting to be a wizard when he grew up was an big improvement over wanting to be an owlbear. Children go through phases.

Weston heard his mother's laugh, a wonderful sound, and made his way from the balcony, down the staircase and across the tiled floor to the kitchen (it was wet and the servant shook her mop at him). He ran out into the kitchen garden and down the path to the gate.

His true mother stood there. She had a brilliant white smile on dusky, mink-coloured skin, with a mass of frizzy, black hair, tied up out of her eyes. She carried a wooden grocery box on her hip and stood chatting with a gentlemen that Weston did not yet know.

Mother wore a soft, lavender dress and was a picture, having just walked back from market. They had a servant but mother liked to shop for herself, sometimes travelling far across the city. It was she who informed her husband's buying decisions, his booming trade was in luxuries, spices, furs, fabrics and dyes. Father was not home, of course, which was quite normal as far as Weston was concerned.

The stranger was far taller than Weston's father, with a heavy brow and aquiline nose. His hair was dark brown and like his beard, fashionably trimmed. His clothing was dark, velvety, but with gaudy accents and ruff. He was no dandy, however, wearing a sword-belt and cuirass, and he had a keen eye for Weston's mother.

"I know of your husband, madam, and his trades." He said, his voice deep and masterful, but his demeanour amiable, "And I know that he is away."

Weston's mother smiled politely, "I'm sorry, good sir, but I cannot conduct business on his behalf. I am very flattered that you would trust it with a woman."

The crow's feet creased at the stranger's eyes as he chuckled.

"Madam, I have never judged a person's capability on what resides between their legs. What resides between their ears is a deal more important, and I'm afraid I cannot wait."

Mother took his candor seriously, looking up and down the street. It had been threatening to rain all morning, and the streets had emptied before they could become a quagmire.

"Sir, to ship a parcel at such short notice, such a distance and - and an arduous journey... surely you realise---" His mother tried to explain, but the stranger grabbed her hand and placed a bag of coins in it.

"How expensive it will be?" He finished for her, then continued, "I realise, madam. But this has to happen today, tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest."

She was silenced and peaked inside the purse. Her face betrayed nothing, but she drew a deep breath through her nose and nodded to the stranger.

"Very well sir, you clearly are in a hurry. My husband will see to it, but where is the item?" She asked.

"Also in the bag. I shall leave it in your capable hands, madam, and bid you good day." The stranger replied, hesitating as he turned away.

"Remember. Today, tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. Lives depend on it." He repeated and mother nodded with gravely.

The stranger bowed to her, then saw Weston and bowed to him to. "Perhaps another time, young master." He said and left.

Weston's mother set her box down on the wall, and rumaged through the purse. Finally she pulled out a pale ivory ring, prettily carved, but not hugely interesting.

Weston was more interested in the stranger. The man had a sword! The golden pommel was graven with a crest, a laurel wreath around a mace and a sun.

***

Weston woke, shivering and numb with cold.

Almador was bent over him, holding an empty vial.

"It worked!!" He yelled to the others. Maybe too loudly for D, who was hunched right next to the man-at-arms, holding another potion, should it be needed.

There was more noise, the rumble of thunder as Jex's chaos bolt exploded out in the night, while Zoltan was nocking another arrow to his bow, having loosed the first one at the white dragon.

Hit or miss, the Beast had turned tail and fled. Coughing and wheezing it flew, banking steeply around the curve of the hillside and rustling the tree-tops as it went.

Would it be back?

The tribal halfling seemed to think so. He slid from the boulder and slunked into the deeper shadows around its base.

"Safe place. I take you." He grunted to Tindarien again.

Seyja had unwound her sling but her vengeance had flown into the night. At least she wouldn't have another companion to mourn though, as Almador and the dark elf helped Weston to his feet.

Weston himself might have been lost in thought or bewildered. Not only had he just recalled his mother's face, her voice, but he also recalled the stranger. A man who had aged gracefully, greying but maintaining his stature. The Grandmaster of the Order of Averness.

[[
D HP: 21/21; Rec: 4/8; AC 14, PD 15, MD 11; Init +9
T HP: 24/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 11, PD 12, MD 14; Init +3
N HP: 27/27; Rec: 8/8; AC 17, PD 13, MD 13; Init +2
W HP: 12/33; Rec: 5/9; AC 16, PD 14, MD 11; Init +3*2; Staggered
S HP: 15/33; Rec: 1/8; AC 15, PD 15, MD 11; Init +3*2; Staggered
Z HP: 15/40; Rec: 7/8; AC 21, PD 13, MD 14; Init +2; Staggered
J HP: 12/24; Rec: 2/8; AC 14, PD 12, MD 11; Init +4*2; Staggered
Al HP: 15/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
]]

<Weston>

He blinked ... there were too many things in his mind demanding attention ... he blinked again ... he was having trouble focusing on any one thing. Things were too many things trying to sort themselves out ... new pieces trying to fit themselves into the puzzle of his life.

He recognized Axis. He had been in and out of that city for as long as he could remember. It was where his mom and pop had raised him. It was what seemed like 'home' to him ... even though pop was away more than he was around ... it was the only home he knew. He knew the stories ... the Dragon Emperor, the dragons that protected the city, he had seen the dragon riders from afar soaring over the city.

He remembered those childish dreams of being an archmage ... there was a time he also dreamed of flying on a dragon above the city.

His real mother! He had no previous recollection of her, but somehow he =knew= that she was the woman that had bore him. And there she was, beautiful, competent and strong, taking care of business while father was away. It seemed unfair that he should be able to see and remember her without him.

He had been fighting ... a dragon ... with is friends ... a dragon that was crawling with ... they seemed like dead things. It had been COLD and it was BIG, but when he put on the ring he had seen it was ... 'infested'.

The ring! AND the Grandmaster! He had been there to give it to her. But he was not supposed to get it. It had been destined for someone else. But who?

Seyja


The barbarian woman looked around at the others and nodded her head. The great wyrm had fled - at least for the moment - and everyone had survived the encounter. She moved slightly from side to side, grunting as she felt out the extent of her injuries.

Not life threatening, but painful enough. Seyja pushed her hair back from her forehead and rewound the flexible leather sling around her head. She bent over and picked up her greataxe, grunting as she did so.

She turned and looked back in the direction the dragon had flown.

Tindarien

He stood his ground, waiting until the others had gathered themselves. Perhaps they had driven it off? Maybe this part of the job is done? But he doesn't accept it yet. He waits ready to cast should it return, ready to buy time for his companions.

"Hurry now!"

He calls out to them, nodding at the halfling.

Zoltan

Holding his bow, arrow knocked, he scans the sky. "Go", he calls. "I will catch up."

He waits for the group to get out of sight and then turns and follows behind. As he waits, he takes several deep calming breaths and utters a meditation in his mind.

(OOC - Using a Recovery)

Seyja


After taking a quick look around, Seyja slung her greataxe over her shoulder and gave one hard look at Zoltan.

"Watch out for yourself."

She then moved to Weston's side, offering a hand for support if needed.

"Can I offer you some support while we go with the others?"

D

Who knew what dragons did. But this thing knew of him. How long had he been living his tortured existence?

He stayed quiet and put away the potion. He moved towards the refuge that was being offered.

<Weston>

His eyes seemed a bit ... distant? ... unfocused?

When Seyja addressed him, he blinked twice, his eyes seemed to focus on her for a moment. He smiled and then shrugged. "I think I can manage, but thanks."

He looked over at Almador and the smile broadened. "Thanks", he said, then gave him a clap on the back. "Great job, by the way. You got in a great shot on that thing."

[[ can he see any strange things on/about his companions because of the ring? ]]

Jex

He had let loose one final assault at the dragon as it fled but he could not tell if that final chaos bolt had left it's mark on its scales. No matter, the night was won. Glancing towards Weston, who was coming too after magical healing had been administered he relaxed. They had all survived.

And now they were invited to safety by a small person.

"Tind, I say we do as our new friend suggests. He seems he has our interest in mind."

Sergeant Almador

"Thank the gods!!" He breathed a sigh of relief as Weston came to.

Hearing Seyja's offer, he said, "I don't know about him, ma'am, but I wouldn't mind."

He needed a hand up himself, his knees cracking as he stood. It was dark under the trees, but the sky was clear and the glade lit well enough for him to see. It seemed peaceful yet very eerie now, glistening with frost on a hot summer night.

He couldn't quite make out the halfling though. His sight wasn't as keen as his companions. At Weston's compliment, he grinned sheepishly.

"It was pretty good, wasn't it. I think it took off with my partisan though." He said, tying his mace back onto his belt. It was better than fisticuffs.

Sergeant Almador followed the rest of the party's lead.

[Recruiting for this player character. Send PM for details]

Nestaron

He wasn't as complacent as the Sergeant of the Guard. Like his companions, he had no doubt that the white wyrm would be back. A creature as ancient and evil as it was, as embowed with death magic, they would have to pry the life out of it.

Until then, it flew and breathed, and posed a dire threat to the party. Nestaron surveyed his companions by the starlight. They looked like they had just crawled out of an avalanche at the bottom of a mountain.

It had taxed their powers, but they had survived and driven off the Beast for a while. His half-elven eyes picked out the halfling speaking to Tindarien. He was used to agrarian halflings in hides, beads and long hair, but this one was more rangy.

Either way, anywhere was better than standing where they were, exposed on the hillside with only a shallow cave for shelter.

"Leave the camping gear, we can come back for it in the morning." He advised and fell in with Tindarien.

He gripped his friend's shoulder in comraderie.

"We'll follow!" He muttered.

Tindarien

It took him a moment to realise that Jex had spoken to him, not recognising the short name as his. So his nod is somewhat delayed.

He smiles though at Nestaron's clasp, nodding.

"Just want to be sure it doesn't return until we are clear. Zoltan has the same idea. And thanks to you my friend we all live to fight another day."

[Recruiting for this player character. Send PM for details]

Nestaron

He looked doubtful, nodding to the stars overhead.

"Alas, it's the early hours so there's still a long time before we can say that for sure." He replied to the high elf with a wink.

The cleric was glad that he could help, but could only congratulate himself once this quest was behind them.

This reminded him to double-check the party's treasure bags. They were something they had to keep close. If they lost the haunted helm and the rest of the treasure now, their journey would have been for naught.

GM

At first Weston didn't see anything unusual about his companions, but as they spoke amongst themselves, he saw that whenever D faced the moon and its light stole under his hood, a ghostly coronet appeared above his brow. Because he was a dark elf? Some other reason seemed more likely, given what D had told them about his past.

The halfing tribesman didn't tarry for the party and slipped into the undergrowth with almost Fey-like stealth. He kept stopping, turning around and hissing, goading anyone following him to keep pace. The high elf had told him to hurry and that seemed to have been interpreted as 'fast and low as a fox'. Farvi stayed quiet. He was used to being jounced around in Tindarien's backpack. (Fortunately he'd built a particularly robust nest in the bottom out of a dryad's loincloth. Quite what that was doing amongst the sorcerer's belongings was surely a tale only he could tell.)

As soon as the rest of the party were under cover, Zoltan could bring up the rear. Even in darkness, the tracks of seven people, armed and armoured and travelling at speed, would not be difficult to follow. But perhaps he intended a solitary vigil?

Ahead, the halfling had led the rest of you through the woods, around the slope. Sweating and sweltering from the activity, you remembered how it was a summer's night on the Sword Point, not deep winter in the Far North. It was only natural if your innards felt a little queasy, quite literally stepping from one climate to another.

The halfling turned and skidded downhill, and you were soon confronted by the same narrow defile where Renn had splattered against the rocks. The sides were steeper and higher, but it was bridged by a fallen tree. The mohawked halfling vouched for its solidity by dashing across without hesitation. He turned and gestured for the others to follow quickly.

"Not far!" He said, "Careful now!!"

It was a long drop if you slipped.

Back at the glade, Zoltan was probably thumbing his bowstring, arrow nocked and scowling. Maybe it was the halfing who had been watching them that afternoon? If it knew its way around the Titan's Elbow, it knew about the dragon and how to evade it. Or was the halfling in league with the dragon? Doubtful. The halfling could have attacked Tindarien and Nestaron while they were fighting the dragon. Without their magic, things would have gone much worse for the party.

But something wasn't right. If it wasn't the halfling, what was it? The dragon was gone, driven off... the tiefling turned a full circle, yet to be convinced it seemed(?).

[[
D HP: 21/21; Rec: 4/8; AC 14, PD 15, MD 11; Init +9
T HP: 24/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 11, PD 12, MD 14; Init +3
N HP: 27/27; Rec: 8/8; AC 17, PD 13, MD 13; Init +2
W HP: 12/33; Rec: 5/9; AC 16, PD 14, MD 11; Init +3*2; Staggered
S HP: 15/33; Rec: 1/8; AC 15, PD 15, MD 11; Init +3*2; Staggered
Z HP: 21/40; Rec: 6/8; AC 21, PD 13, MD 14; Init +2
J HP: 12/24; Rec: 2/8; AC 14, PD 12, MD 11; Init +4*2; Staggered
Al HP: 15/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
]]

[OOC - Neal - Note, stats for Zoltan are incorrect again ]

Zoltan

Once the others have moved off, he throws all of the firewood on the fire, building it up to a bonfire to attract the dragon's attention should it return and keeping it off his wounded companions. He purposefully keep his eyes closed, or averted as he works to not ruin his night vision, glancing up at the sky from time to time to keep watch.

Once done, he gathers up whatever equipment or treasure is left behind into a pile, then stops as he considers the recent circumstances. It is still too odd for his liking, so he takes advantage of the silence, broken only by the crackling wood in the fire, to meditate and offer a prayer to the Herald. Standing with his back to the blaze to maintain his sight, he offers thanks for the warmth.

**Herald of Glory my humble thanks for your ever-present watchfulness and your support in driving off another being of evil. With your continued help may I be able to completely destroy it should it return and do my small part in helping to bring about the ultimate heavenly goodness here, in this world. I beseech you, reveal to me that which has been spying upon us so I might judge it's intent, and if evil, might do my duty.**

D

He moved with the sure of foot that indicated his ability to see in the night. Though he wasn't always looking forward in fact much of his time he spent looking up and back as if sure the dragon would return to complete it's task.

He carried his portion of the treasure not wishing to leave it and not complete their task.

At the fallen tree he needed little encouragement to cross. Though he offered his balance to aid anyone else who might seem unsure, like say the Sergeant.

Seyja


She smiled and extended a hand to help the sergeant to his feet.

"Good man... your quick response might well have saved our friend here," she said, gesturing toward Weston.

"Let us go before that evilness returns."

<Weston>

He followed the others as best he could, but most of his attention was now focused on what the ring had shown him.

He wasn't sure what to make of the 'vision' when he looked at D. He was still new to all this and wasn't sure what to make of it. But he didn't sense the 'evil' and 'death' that he had seen looking at the dragon, so he was willing to be patient for now. Hopefully his understanding of what the ring showed him would become clear.

But his real concern was who had been meant to have this terrible thing. He might have to get in touch with the grandmaster once he was done with this to see what he knew about all this. He should at least know who the intended recipient was.